


When I Faltered

by sable_fahndu



Category: Final Fantasy IX
Genre: Drama, F/M, Hentai, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-04-25 22:27:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 63,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14388399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sable_fahndu/pseuds/sable_fahndu
Summary: Pretty Lady of Lindblum she had played her part well. Hilda's account as a prisoner of a young, wily mage by the name of Kuja. KujaHilda.





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I retain no rights nor am I receiving any profit from Final Fantasy IX.

**A/N** : These first few chapters were awful, I apologize. Please bear with me as I am steadily revising chapters 1-5 while simultaneously updating the story. With this chapter now revised and complete, I will continue to rework 2-5. Thank you for taking the time to look at my work, I appreciate it.

It resounded off the walls; echoing, refracting, frightening was the sound as her ears proclaimed it. The screaming; endless, continuous, and so forgone within it's madness that she couldn't breathe and wondered where her mind settled upon the plane of sanity and how she wished so very much that the cries would stop and she could think properly and her heart would stop racing and-

  
She recognized the voice as her own and immediately ceased the screaming.

  
And she woke up.

  
The glare of the sun shining through the colored panes of glass in her window caused her to wince and hold her eyes shut tight for a few spare moments before she chanced another open. And when she did, she was better prepared and it didn't offend as much. She sighed into the softness of the grand bed, the dusty calmness of the early morning, and the warmth from the sun and of the blankets before she recalled where she was.  
They came in flashes like the chimes of a bell.

  
Depthless darkness with burning orbs for eyes. The smell of charred flesh. Feathers. A piercing animal shriek. Oceanic-jade eyes.

  
Here.

  
Kuja.

  
The Desert Palace.

  
Her mind fell into focus. Smoothing her growing hair with her hands, she made her way from the bed, washing her face after undressing, the liquid soothing against the slight sweat on her skin. With water dripping from her face, she wondered of her captor’s whereabouts, unable to ever detect whether he was in residence or not, the mage so eerily quiet about his movements despite the metal constructs of his most favored boots.

  
He had startled her on a few occasions, clearly capable of being unseen and unheard when he chose to be, ever deadly silent. She would swallow her small butterfly wings of panic as he would approach her, the lithe sashaying of his hips almost rhythmic as he flicked silver locks from his eyes, henna accenting orbs that knew where the jade stone kissed the ocean, grinning impishly at her.

  
Despite her fear, it had occurred to her more than once that he had the prettiest smile she had ever seen. And his knowing smile, whenever he caught her unconsciously admiring him, was telling that he was very aware of his own allure.  
His hair came in breadths of silver locks that fell in wisps about his shoulders and hips, causing her to restrain herself from grasping at the lengths and running them through her fingers, the peculiar feathers at his brow leaving the oculars struck and wondering, wanting a chance to make a pluck for them.

  
He worried her.

  
Always on edge.

  
Ready for battle.

  
And he drank in it. Arrogant, elegant, tired, and graceful, she was constantly being dragged along by his pace, making her dizzy, fearful, and weary all at once, the steps to his dance too quick and perilous to suit her tastes.  
Blinking her eyes rapidly, asserting herself to think of anything other than the man that owned the establishment she resided in, she allowed herself to contemplate on other things. Despite the change in thought, however, her mind wandered unbidden to other distasteful things.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

  
She had returned a day early to the Grand Castle, her stay with her father and visit to the university cut short as Dr. Tot’s special seminar on the Twin Moon theories had been cancelled, citing a delay due to him having business in Alexandria. Minister Artania had met her cordially at the cable car dock, escorting her to the elevator as he briefed her on the events that had occurred during her absence. Once arriving on the upper level, she briskly made her way to her husband’s chambers; listening as Artania’s sarcastic but welcoming wit brought a smile to her face.

  
The two of them turned a corner, reaching a red-carpeted hallway, the large ornate wooden chamber doors straight ahead, Hilda chuckling at something the Minister had said, her skirts ruffling against her legs as they closed the distance to their destination. She lost her footing momentarily as she heard a cry, quickly balancing herself as she slowed her steps, the echoes becoming louder, and passionate in nature. Something vile twisted in the pit of her stomach as her chest clenched, stopping in her tracks, her hands unconsciously grasping for the each other, fingers bitingly twisting into one another.  
Artania’s usually controlled features were not so, evidence of his shock set within his wide eyes, staring at the door, his thin lips parted slightly as listened in disbelief. Looking to his mistress, he made to reach for her arm before her strangely still voice caused him to pause.

  
“Leave.”

  
She never took her eyes off the door, her command calm but firm. His mouth closed as his hand withdrew, a small nod given in turn, quickly making his way back where they had came.

  
The laborious sounds continued and she was unsure of how long she had stood there before her feet carried her forward. Quietly making her way into the room, her person gone completely unnoticed, she watched as her husband’s body arched and thrust into another, his sounds of pleasure something she had never heard from this point of view. There was another voice, feminine and very different from her own, crying out with him.

  
She had caught him in several affairs but had never actually caught him in the act. It had always been after the fact.

  
And this.

  
This hurt so much worse.

  
To know of it was one thing. To see it…was incomparable…

  
Every sound pierced her chest, and only later she would think to how such a feeling did not cause one to outwardly bleed.

  
Something bitter whispered against her tongue, hateful and encouraging, an acidic bile not of a biological nature but of something mystical and malevolent rising from her throat.

  
The scene before her incited violence.

  
She could hear the clicking of her travelling shoes against the marble as she made her way to the bed, slow and focused as magic gathered about her, her blood singing with something unnamable, something twisted and beyond her control.

  
She didn’t know if he had even noticed her before she casted at him, she couldn’t recall. All she knew was relief later when she realized he had become an oglop, a symbol of her inexperience in red magery, as what she had been truly conjuring had been much worse than death.

  
She had been quick to move thereafter, almost three hours after her heinous act and the Regent had yet to leave his chambers, nothing seeming amiss as two trunks and a crew of airmen began making their way on to the Hilda Guard, Lindblum’s cool Chief Advisor steadily climbing aboard in what mechanics and engineers at the docking stations at the middle tier assumed was a business leave, the Minister himself unaware as to what was transpiring.

  
Unsure of her destination, toying with the idea of visiting her niece in Alexandria, they had made their way past the Dragon’s Gate days ago, flying swiftly over the marsh before heading tentatively toward the North Gate, wondering if a trip to Burmecia might lift her spirits, before there was a shudder that rocked the vessel, Hilda pausing in her query with the navigator, everyone in the room becoming still as they looked at each other in question. The sudden silence of the room didn’t last long before a scream was heard, causing the men and woman in the room to jump, guardsmen turning to the door to find the source of the sound, unarmed. Where one scream ended, another followed, and a third, and all of the crew had existed the room to run aboard, unsure of what was awaiting them.

  
Bright streaming sunlight greeted her eyes as she lifted herself on deck, two men behind her, blinded only momentarily before she focused in time to watch in horror as a man’s body pulsed in convulsions as he was struck by lightning merely feet away from her, his skin beginning to darken in a frightening fashion, a foul and vomit inducing smell wafting on the wind. She instantly recognized the smell of the soldiers flesh and it began peeling away before he was tossed over the deck, no sound emitting from the cracked lips of the man as he fell, most surely already dead.

  
Her head whipped about back and forth at the sudden pandemonium before her as she began choking on panic and confusion, short stout men the likes of which she had never seen grabbing her men and throwing them overboard, another thunder clap cracking and shaking the ship as yet another soldier was hit, his screams shaking the very foundations of her soul as she watched another burn in flames, running to put himself out. In mere minutes, they were almost gone, a large hand grabbing onto her shoulder, another at her arm, pushing her too her knees.

  
Looking behind her, she flinched in fright as she looked to the man that held her down, faceless and dark, two glowing orbs for eyes peering down at her, evoking emotions she had not felt since the nightmares of her childhood.  
Large scare-crow like hats covered darkness without faces, their clothes almost comical by comparison, a mixture of farmer and mage aesthetics dictating their attire, resembling something of a humble Dali sorcerer.

  
A piercing shriek split the sky and a large shadow flew across the ship as a gust of wind buffered against her, causing her hair and skirts to whip about her body. In the wake of the fleeting shadow came a figure from the sky, landing in a smart clip of what sounded like metal, hands pushing themselves from the ground, rising slowly as they assessed the situation around them, the sky darkening with Thundara magic. She had just enough time to see a person with long silver hair and bell like sleeves before she was grabbed again and dragged hastily to the edge of the ship. She began to shout and twist against her captor, kicking and lashing out, trying to free herself. She looked again over to the center of the carnage in time to see the person turn to look at her, a silver eyebrow raising in interest before she was tossed over herself, her breath suddenly catching in her throat as she began falling, the wind beating her body as the earth waited below hungrily, plunging down, down, down.

  
Suddenly, her body was jerked horizontally from her unintended destination, crying out at something worse than daggers pierced the flesh in her arm, blood seeping through cloth as she was tossed about once more, falling hard aboard the ship, crashing, the wind being knocked out of her. Gasping for breath, she lurched her head up just in time to see a flying serpent speed away as she shakily tried to stand, her fingers trembling in disbelief on the floor of the deck, trying to discern how she was falling one moment and back on her ship the next.

  
Gentle hands were there, helping her up, quick to right her without being invasive, a low and cultured voice bringing her out of her confusion as she looked up, blue meeting blue as the person from before smiled down at her, taking note not to touch her wound.  
“I apologize madam, I fear my pet’s claws might have nicked you during its hasty rescue. “

  
It was a man.

  
Her eyes took him in as her mind raced, rattling in her skull, almost star struck. Silver locks curled around just below his eyes and again under his cheeks, breadths of down-like tendrils almost to his hips, curling again at his crown…

  
Were those feathers?

  
Henna delicately edged the corners of his deep blue fluorite eyes, long thick silver lashes almost whisper-like as he blinked, skin cream-like and pale, no scarring or visible flaws to be seen on his person.

  
Young too, his posture resembling that of gentry, his clothes hinting that of a courtier, his demeanor speaking calmness in what was surely a storm.

  
He whispered something she didn’t recognize and jerked her head to her arm, frazzled; watching as flesh knitted itself back together, her pain dissipating as if it had never been there.

  
White magic. He was a healer! She grasped onto one of his sleeves, frantic. “The soldiers! Quickly! You must save them before their wounds-“

  
“Oh?” he asked calmly, his head tilting to the side, extracting her hand from his clothing, polite but clearly setting a boundary between acceptable familiarity. “But there are no such people aboard, madam.”

  
Confused, she looked around, her legs unsteady as she turned from man to man, dread and horror consuming her as she realized none was her own. She looked to her savior in question, his smile still intact, titled head prompting her for a question.  
“They killed them!” she tried to whisper, trying to inch closer to the man in order to implore the importance of her words to him, her panic rising, making him take a step back.

  
“Yes, they did, “he confirmed, his attitude still jovial. She stopped then, her body going cold as the pieces began to fall into place, everything happening so rapidly, she didn’t even have the time to curse herself for her lack of recognition and common sense.

  
“You…you did this?!” Fear was beginning to ebb into anger, but not uncontrollably so as she realized that she needed to gather her wits about her, her current predicament something she understood too little of to properly assess what her next move should be. She stilled her body and rose, standing straight.

  
Watching the change in her stature obliviously pleased him as his eyes appraised the shift in her attitude, something resembling nobility forming before him.

  
“Might I ask why?” Her voice no longer wavered, eyes dead set on the ones looking down on her, unyielding.

  
“You are most welcome to, “he invited, a hand rising to a hip. His grin broadened into a playful dare, inviting her into a game she was sure to lose.

  
“Why?” she implored firmly.

  
He watched her in amusement before shrugging nonchalantly, not the least bothered by her command. “I am limited in my means to travel at the moment. And this, “he gestured to the ship, “seemed to be quite the thing. It caught my eye, you understand?”

  
“And my men?”

  
“Had a feral look about them, “he offered, “They didn’t look the type to relinquish such a vessel.”

  
His playfulness ebbed away slightly as he suddenly focused on her, as if zeroing in. He looked her up and down, calculating, fingers settling on his chin. The clouds were beginning to part, the aftermath of casted spells dissipating as the fetid smell renting the air began billowing away.

  
With a delicate tap of his fingers, an outward gesture of decidedness, he looked to her with another cordial smile, an arm tucking around his abdomen.

  
“Your dress looks to be tailored from a modiste madam, with impeccable detail. I imagine the fabric is quite exclusive to a certain set.”

  
“Your point sir?” she quipped out of frustration, his change in topic throwing her for a loop, her confusion mounting by the second.

  
“I apologize; I have an eye for these things you see?” His fingers flickered to his eyes as if to emphasize his point, leaning forward, his smile almost radiant despite the circumstances they were in. “My point is that your dress would cost quite a ransom from a commoner’s perspective meaning you are not just anyone.”

  
He paused here, inclining closer toward her, a shadow being casted upon her, making her shudder.

  
“Who are you?” The words were suddenly cutting and to the point, his eyes sharpening as he enunciated each word, peering down at her.

  
Her mind raced on what to say. Would her name mean her damnation or salvation? Would he manage to catch her in a lie if she tried and would that evoke the wrath of the strange men clustered about around them? She knew she had mere seconds to answer, the longer she toiled, the more suspicious he would become.

  
“Hilda Fabool, “she started slowly, trying to tread carefully as she watched his reaction. His narrowed eyes widened then, surprise evident in them despite his lack of change in his smile. He recognized the name, she could see. He knew who she was.  
“Lady Lindblum herself?” Again, his eyes roved over her, perhaps marveling at his unintended catch. Even though he remained in place, it felt as if he was circling her the way his startling blue eyes looked at her, as if invading her secrets. His eyes stopped then, catching on to her wedding band, his hand lightning fast as it latched onto her wrist, turning her hand around to see the dragon etched on the underside of the band, the Lindblum crest carved proudly.

  
Looking into her eyes, he released her. “Chief Advisor, might I ask where you are travelling then?”

  
Again, she reeled at what to say. How was she to impart to this stranger his understanding that she honestly did not quite know where she had intended to go? She had considered visiting the princess in Alexandria but had not finalized the decision as she knew her arrival would alert her husband as to her whereabouts and she was not quite ready for that interlude yet, her anger and hurt still raw.

  
But if she was to be expected…

  
“Alexandria,” she replied flatly, a small surge of hope garnering her a more confidant tone. “I have an audience with the Queen. This little, “she looked about her, her shoulders and spine postured as her eyes looked about her coolly,” delay will be noted. You do see the dilemma, surely?”

  
She understood she was playing with fire. There was no doubt. But this man was a stranger to her and she needed to see where she stood, if she could intimidate or frightened him a little, perhaps. He didn’t hesitate to let her know.

  
“Liar,” he declared, his smile widening enough to show his canines, his eyes shimmering something dark and excited, taking delight in her untruth.

  
He said it so smoothly, so definitely that her panic began to return, wondering how it was he knew and what would happen to her for it.

  
Who was this man?

  
He chuckled then, the sound startling her despite its melodic resonance.

  
His hand rose to her face and she flinched, but he merely let it pause a half inch away from her cheek, amused at her reaction.

  
“I’m not quite sure what to do you with, my lady. Until I find a suitable…purpose for you, perhaps you will be my guest?”

  
She was scared. So very, very frightened. She tried her best to not let it show, damning herself as her hands began to tremble, clenching them.

  
“And might I ask what my…host, “she bit out, “calls himself, sir?”

  
His features softened, only slightly, the game won.

  
“I am called Kuja, my lady, “his bow low and sweeping, a perfect display of courtly manners.

  
“And your family name?” she added, her frustrations at her helplessness eating away at her.

  
“I’m afraid Kuja is the only name I have to give. Now, is there anything else you need my lady?”

  
She turned and walked away, her head held high despite not looking at the little men she walked past, too fearful to peer into the abyss that was their faces, her silent compliance making her curse herself as she found her way to her room. The wretched smell still lingered, the vileness a reminder of the horror that had taken place a mere 15 minutes prior. She didn’t dare turn back, as she knew he was still smiling as he watched her walk away.

  
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

  
Dressing lightly, the air becoming hot and dusty within her room, she left her newly acquired chambers to venture into the library of the desert palace once more, information her only ally within the confines of these alien walls.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

He was humiliated.

  
The unveiling of his latest creation was in three days and she had taken it, damning him in this form while running off with his latest airship to Madeen knew where! And while only a select few within his set knew of his demise, their opinions were the ones that mattered the most!

  
Artania had been the one to discover his wife’s deed, quick to recognize the skittish, foul little thing he had become, stopping a maid just in time from lashing out at the squawking creature. Dismissing the woman and giving orders to locate and “gag” his runaway mistress, the man was quick to work. Grasping hold of the situation, a mage whose silence could be bought was presented within the privacy of the Regent’s chambers in order to undo the ghastly thing his wife had done.

  
After much consultation the sorcerer brought irritation not only to the Regent but to the Minister as well, as nothing was being done.

  
His attempts were failing and making the Minister question whether his missive was interpreted incorrectly as the mage before them did not seem to be of reputable standing as he had dictated.

  
The mage however was not bothered in the least, only resigned.

  
“I’m afraid this is beyond my capabilities, as you may have noticed.” He gestured to the oglop before him, his accent cultured and educated, “Rather than a transformative spell in nature, you have been cursed.”

  
The Regent squawked, by way of indignation or predisposition to his new nature, the man did not know.

  
“I can see that I have! What of it?! Why can it not be undone?”

  
The man was quick to clarify, seeing that the Regent did not indeed understand. “You misunderstand, sir. This isn’t merely a spell, but a curse. Curses are old magic. These things are not even taught in guilds or through apprenticeships anymore. Such knowledge is all but lost much less reputable. Curses are built from raw emotion and are binding until the castor themselves undo them. I’m not too sure how this mage even had knowledge on how to conjure such a thing. It leads me to believe that perhaps the action was instinctual in order to bring about such a result?”

  
Cid was quiet for a moment, the man’s observation much too telling. Indeed, his wife was a mage but she knew so very little of the craft that it was almost in name only. Her minor abilities were inherited from her father’s side and what little the man had known, he had taught her, more for child’s play than anything else as the Gerrick’s were a family dedicated to scholarly pursuits rather than magic, the head of the family a prestigious professor of histories and ancient civilizations at the university.

  
After much silence and dreaded resignation, the mage was dismissed and Cid sat in silence as Artania watched his strange little face carefully, trying to gauge where his lords mind was to.

  
“So I am to remain this way until Hilda returns.”

  
He wanted to slam his fist down, frustration and humiliation reigning in once more. Damn her!

 

**A/N** : *covers eyes* apparently I didn’t believe in proof reading among many other things when I was writing the original chapters. I hope this new chapter is a suitable replacement as I try to mend this story. Thank you again for reading and please bear with me.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you for reading this despite me revising the first half of the story; I am not the best author. Now that chapter 2 and 3 are revised, I am working now on chapters 4 and 5 while writing chapter 10, hopefully I can get them out quickly and get this story back on a proper track. Thank you for bearing with me. 

Removing her torn and blood stained garments with trembling fingers, Hilda’s hand stopped at her arm to see fresh, jagged scarring on the underside of her upper arm. 

This was surely the work of a curative spell, the speedy recovery aided in sealing wounds, saving lives, and eliminating pain to a certain degree depending on the level casted and the severity of the injury, however due to the quick nature of healing, it always left hastily-made scars in its wake. Natural, biological healing was necessary if one wanted to minimize any physical marring on their person however anytime a “Cure” was needed for physical damages, it was usually in cases such as hers, leaving the patient with no complaints. 

The new scars mattered not. She looked into her dressing mirror, all color drained from her face, even her lips, half naked. 

What was she to do?

She wasn’t sure how long she had been in her tiny room, as she had merely sat in a chair and stared at her door in fear, wondering if one of those faceless men would enter, or worse, the pretty one with the sickeningly sweet smile, announcing that her fate had been decided. She wasn’t a little fool, even she understood that killing her would be the most logical option. Ransom would be her first conclusion if the would-be leader was so inclined but without a doubt she was most sure that money was not of interest to the man. Just as he had observed and remarked on her attire, she too could recognize that his vestiges were sumptuous and well-made in turn, the fabric and highly detailed plating of his mantle something procured only by the elite. 

The way he had removed her hand from his person when she had reached for him led her to believe that he was in no way interested in retaining her for sexual gratification. Nor could she aid his little band of men in any magical capacity. 

Looking down at the mess of her gown is what prompted her to get up to change; her hair is disarray much like her nerves. Once changed, there was a slight knock at the door which caused her to jump in fright; her body stilling after in anticipation, sure that someone would enter. After several slow, nail biting minutes passed and her door remained shut, she inched over to it, slowly resting her face against the smoothened wood, listening for any sound from the other side. 

All that met her ear was silence. 

Whispering harsh words to herself for her cowardice, she cracked the door open, willing her posture into something ladylike and refined. What met her eyes was an empty hallway. She poked her head out, peering down both directions, not a person in sight. Something reflected against the light coming from her room; as it was now dark, and she looked down to see a polished tray with simple fare piled on it. She reached down to take the offering of what she assumed was her serving of the evening meal, slipping back into her room after looking about once more to verify she was indeed alone. 

Placing the tray on her desk, she sat dazed, looking to the bread, cheese, fruit, and what was obviously Cid’s favorite wine, wondering how she was supposed to muster any form of appetite in order to consume what was before her. 

They were obviously making themselves at home, clearly already helping themselves to this ships’ larder. She began picking through the spread, everything she consumed settling like heavy stones within her stomach, her thoughts enabling her to even recall the taste of the meal. Chewing slowly, she quickly eliminated all thoughts of escape while still airborne, thinking of her poor men as their bodies had been set alight and tossed asunder in quick momentum, making her in turn wonder about the capabilities of what appeared to be a white mage as their leader. 

What a strange arrangement, that. Surely he could not master black elementals as they had; he had used a restorative spell on her! Only whispers of black magic had remained on the Mist Continent, researchers and mages alike unsure if the craft had ever truly existed or if it had died in time, the only remnants being dusty faded books, accounts that could not be verified for either truth or fiction. But she had witnessed it first-hand today. And she would be unwise to eliminate the possibility that perhaps one could control both sides of the spectrum after what she had been through. 

It was enough to make her worry that perhaps she had mentally short circuited. 

And later, she lay silent in her bed, the only noise being the hum of the turbines beneath her. She could not sleep, staring up at the ceiling, wondering where it was they were travelling to. After much deliberation, she willed her body up and out of the room, down the dimly lit hallway in her dressing robes, up the small steps and out into the night air, almost gasping with it, the cold air hitting her like a shock wave, the sudden chill clearing her head and stilling her piling thoughts. She grasped onto the rails of the side of the ship, hanging her head over, allowing the whipping wind to catch her hair, soaking in the sensation to drown out the fear that had been accumulating within her the last several hours. 

Taking large gulps of breath, she could hear several feet shuffle in the background, shuddering at the thought of the strange men still moving about, wondering on how much longer she had before she needed to turn back lest she be discovered. Her body soon followed her head, becoming cold in turn and she raised her head, still in the shadows of the side of the ship. 

“Are you thinking of escaping?” 

She jumped at the query, her head whipping to the man merely three feet from her, his arms tossed carelessly over the railing much like her own, looking not at her, but to the night. When had he come upon her? How long had he been there?  
There were no moons to be seen due to the overcast but she could still see the outline of his face and the billowing of his sleeves. 

At her silence, he turned to her then, the small movement prompting her for an answer. 

“Of course not,” she answered naturally, irritation unmasked in her response. She placed her head back on the railing, resting her cheek and closing her eyes. The atmosphere didn’t feel threatening at the moment and she was becoming so very tired.

She could hear the smile in his voice, “Your husband then?” Her eyes opened, raising herself to look at what she could see of him, her dressing robe whipping about her legs. She heard movement once more and looked behind her toward the light spilling from the hallway over yonder. 

“Never mind them. They’re far too invested in their tasks to ever pay you any mind.” His head rested in one of his hands, the elbow propped on the railing, looking at her thoughtfully. 

“Does that mean I am free to walk aboard or am I to remain confined?” Her fists were clenched as she turned back to him; her eyes narrowed despite their obvious tiredness, a slim calve peeping out here and there from her robes with the wind. She was a regal little thing, he thought, not disliking the view. He had expected her to cower in tears, beg him to spare her, and other such nonsense one of her ilk were predisposed to doing, yet she had done nothing of the sort. There was still time for that, however. He wouldn’t put it past nobility to show a burst of bravado before succumbing to their fears. 

“You’re most welcome to peruse the ship comfortably, my lady, all but my rooms, of course.” She didn’t doubt that this man would take nothing but the best given his taste in livery, sure that the master cabin was now in residence. 

“And our destination?”

“The Kiera Desert.”

She blinked, her mind coming up blank as she failed to recognize the location he had given. 

“I have never heard of such a place.”

“No, I’m sure you haven’t, “he sounded bored. “It’s on the Outer Continent, I’m afraid. We still have a few days aboard before we alight.”

He was expecting admonishment or disbelief but was rather surprised to watch her tired eyes widen, her voice curious and almost childlike. 

“Truly?” 

As if remembering her place, she schooled her features into refinement once more, a hand absently petting her hair down to tame the somewhat short locks. 

“Whatever for?” 

He didn’t need to consider an answer, still unsure himself as to what to do with her, keeping all information brief and miniscule until it suited him otherwise.

“Research. You will remain a guest, for now.” There was a small warning in his response despite his civil tone. She heard the finality in his answer and decided it was time to return to her room. With a small inclination of her head, she locked her eyes on his. 

She was afraid of him. But she would never allow herself to be a pitiful, weeping thing at his mercies. She would rather rot.

“I see. Then if you would excuse me, sir, it is rather late.” 

Ever the lady, she waited for him to respond in turn and she wasn’t disappointed. With a beautiful bow, he bid her goodnight, watching as she left, amusement tickling his curiosity. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Despite the freedom allowed to her upon the ship, there wasn’t much to do in ways of occupying her time. The little men that roamed the ship were ever silent and gave her nothing more than a passing glance if she happened upon a room they were in. They scuttled about their business, ten in all she counted, monitoring the navigation controls, making hearty sandwiches with thick slices of bread, and cleaning the deck for all remains of the ships previous occupants. 

She didn’t see much of the man that appeared to be in control and when she did chance upon a whisper of silver in the distance, she made to turn in the opposite direction, not necessarily inclined to engage in any form of fake civility, her worry growing but still manageable as she understood too little about the Outer Continent, much less this Kiera Desert to formulate a proper plan on what she was to do once she got there. 

Four and a half days of journey from her initial kidnapping, she sat in her room, her fingers twitching and burning from a sad little practice session of long disused magery, when she felt the ship begin to descend, the change in elevation swift but steady, a small panic itching in her stomach at the realization that they must be here. 

She looked about her room before making to pack her two trunks, unsure if they were to follow her, unsure if she would even be allowed to live long enough to make it off the dock itself. Her captor had still not specified if he had indeed found a “purpose” for her, and she dreaded to think that perhaps if he had, would it be worse than being killed instead? Swallowing down her emotions, she stilled her hands to make quick work of her little task, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress as she finished, reaching for her door. She had felt the ship settle several minutes ago and knew there was no point in waiting about in her cabin. She straightened her posture as she often did and made out into the hallway, walking briskly as if she were in the corridors of the Grand Castle itself. 

She could see the silvery mage below the ship, watching as his men came down with food, caskets of wine, and eventually her trunks as well. Walking down without looking for permission, she suddenly grabbed the rail of rope to steady herself, looking aloft to see the opening of the cavern they were in, hot gusty wind blowing, creating a whistle about the rocky walls. In the distance she could see sand dunes and she couldn’t help but pause, her ever curious nature taking hold of her and she marveled at the sight, wishing to take a closer look but understanding that such an action might be considered as an attempt to escape, not wanting to see what the “no-faces” or so-called “healer” might have in store for her. 

With one last glance, she turned about and continued down the planked walkway, her travelling boots kicking from under her skirts as she looked up to meet the taller man’s eyes just as she alighted. 

“I see we have arrived, sir.” She looked about the cavern before turning back to him.

“That we have,” he replied, turning smoothly and flicking his fingers at her to follow. 

They stopped before a glowing sigil on the floor, the light pulsing the closer they got. Her eyes widened once more and she looked up to see him smiling in amusement at her obvious wonder. She didn’t bother to hide her expression, her eyes imploring for him to explain the thing glowing at their feet. 

“Teleportation. This will take us into my palace.”

“Palace? In a desert?”

“Beneath our feet, no less.”

“Beneath the ground?!” She balked at the possibility. 

She looked again at the blue streaks of light designed upon the floor, the strange little occurrences happening about her increasing every day. 

“I’ve never seen magic like this,” she almost whispered, slightly dazzled. 

“Not magic, my lady. Technology.”

Their eyes met once more, question after question building upon her tongue but she did not know where to even begin. Before she could even ask her first one, he grabbed her swiftly and pulled the two of them into the center of the ring, her stomach lurching violently. She blinked several times, trying to register the fact that within in instant, she was in an entirely different environment, grasping onto the slightly younger man as a perch despite his efforts of entangling her hand from his arm.   
Hues of dark dusky purples, gold, and red accents in strange patterns she had never seen in any of the grand kingdoms of the Mist Continent draped and webbed and wove across the stone and glass-prismed architecture, leaving her struck and staring. She was unsure if her mouth hung open as she gaped at the decadence and foreign aesthetics that made up the grand room they were in. 

This…all of this…was underground?

“One of the puppets will show you to your room. I advise you to be cautious in my abode, as not every room is necessarily safe, especially the lower levels.” 

He was still speaking but she could not hear him as she was still marveling at the room about her, the grandness and large scale of it all breathtaking. 

“Lady Hilda,” his voice was firm, making her turn back to him, unsure of the importance of what it was he had been saying. 

“I am to be free to roam this establishment?” she looked about, a small flutter of excitement racing through her despite the circumstances,” but not all facets of this keep are safe. What is the most dangerous then?”

Looking at him once more, her body stilled at the chills that suddenly raced up her arms as the man before her smiled, something sadistic hinting at the corners of his mouth. 

“The most dangerous thing here, my lady, is me.”

What he said was not boastful, merely a fact. With a swift gesture, one of the little men appeared before them to lead her to her knew chambers, blue eyes following her as they parted, making her feel exposed and almost as frightened as when they had first met. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The eerie silence that encompassed herself and her guide was met with more than a little trepidation. She watched him from behind warily as the little man weaved through halls, corridors, and stairs, knowledgeable about their surroundings despite the strange, almost mechanically-inclined way in which he walked. He stopped abruptly in front of a door, causing her to almost crash into him, opening the thing swiftly, staring straight ahead as if she wasn’t even there. 

Slowly, she stepped into the room, looking about her with as much awe and curiosity as she had the moment she had arrived in this foreign place. Her chambers in Lindblum were very much in décor like all the state rooms within the Grand Castle, polished wood, red draperies, and golden accents, her bed linen and possessions about the room being the only things resembling her personal touch. 

This room however boasted of a cascade of color and fabrics, the ceiling very much like the interior she had seen so far, dark purple with gold and silver accents in its design, patterns bold yet refined. There was a small little window on the opposite side of the bed of colored paned glass, creating a small prism of colors upon the floor where the sun shone through. The bed was large, enveloping so, canopied with two overlays of fabric in plum and champagne, coverlets stylized almost in a damask manner with pillows to spare in shades of amber and jade. 

A large carpet took over most of the room, a slightly raised fireplace aloft between the bed and the tiny window. There was an armoire, wardrobe, desk, and her two trunks, waiting for her. She had almost forgotten about the little man at the door, so taken in with the luxury of her “prison” that she jumped when she turned to see him still there. 

He said nothing, looked to nothing, and merely stood in place, as if waiting for instructions. She thought on this behavior, concluding that if he indeed worked in such a capacity, then he could have only killed her men by his master’s command. 

She watched him for several minutes, looking to his chest as it rose and fell, his glowing orbs for eyes blinking every now and then, but still ever silent and unchanging. 

“Thank you, that will be all,” she tested, watching as his body moved into motion, closing the door behind him as he exited. 

How very, very strange. 

They were nothing more than dolls. Very frighteningly powerful dolls. 

She thought a moment on changing her travelling boots to a more comfortable shoe and about whether her common sense and survival instinct should win out over her itching curiosity. She pondered the idea only momentarily, coaching herself to act the part as the Regent of Lindblum’s Chief Advisor would and countering that she didn’t know how many days she had left to this life and being her first and possibly only time to ever be in the Outer Continent, she should take advantage of this opportunity and make the most of it. 

She liked to think that had she not married into the Regency, she would have followed suit in her families’ tradition and would have immersed herself in research of ancient civilizations much like her father at the university. How strange that through love and loyalty she had turned to politics, and how very naturally suited to it she had become, much to the surprise and anger of many former sirs whose seats had become empty once she began to learn how to play the game. 

Curiosity and what resembled recklessness, won out and she made to change her shoes to explore. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

He only stayed for three nights, having perused the tome he had needed, memorizing the location of the four crystal shards once more, a painstakingly detailed rendering of Alexander etched about the long-fading pages, yellowed and decaying. 

He had tucked a Dragon Wrist in his sleeves as he settled atop his pet, whispering their destination sweetly to his companion, the serpentine creature growling in affection and acknowledgement, its razor sharp claws retracting slightly as it made to stand, rustling from side to side in anticipation for takeoff. 

He was unsure about the woman he had let roam about his home, having not wanted to kill her outright lest holding her hostage might prove useful later. Their few interactions aboard the airship had been surprisingly amusing, if not stimulating from the stale silence of the puppets that had accompanied him. She had yet to break down and had he had more time to pay attention to her, he would have indulged in bullying her just a little, his range and ideas of fun a little meaner than most. 

From the moment they had arrived, he had seen very little of her and what he had had been merely a small acknowledgement in passing of one another as he was busy about his research, her with her “explorations”. She was quick to take to his library and surmised that he would no doubt find her there when he returned. 

Maybe the puppets would Stop, or forget to feed her, or she would fall from a staircase and the lady would be no more. He cared little either way, looking ahead as the dragon leapt in a great gust of wind, it’s wings flapping heavily to buffer them further in the air before taking them forward, back to the Mist Continent. His new ship was quite convenient for transporting his mages and such but nothing was faster than a dragon, not on Gaia. 

Once arriving to Treno, he made directly to King’s Auctioning House, taking the back entrance in, guards and servants alike inclining their heads in acknowledgment as he made quick work up the stairs to the private residence above the business. Entering the bedchambers, the silvery man paused but didn’t even blink, his hand still on the handle of the door as he watched in mild boredom as a young man with brownish hair all but fell out of the bed in startled embarrassment, making fast work of reaching for his crumpled attire, fastidiously dawning on shirt, vest, trousers, and various other accoutrements. 

Despite the tailoring of his clothing, his hair was in disarray, his face stained red, giving a small inclination of his head in Kuja’s way, stopping momentarily to gape at the beautiful man before remembering himself and escaping quickly before questioned by the silvery intruder. Closing the door behind himself after the young man’s exist, he threw himself lazily into a chair, propping his elbow on the arm, his hand against his cheek. 

“I didn’t think you went for the studious types,” he mused, looking to the other man still lounging in bed, covers hanging loosely about his hips, a wry grin on his face. 

“Not necessarily but he was pretty enough,” Cassius King supplied, lifting himself from the bed, naked and without an ounce of body shyness. Older than Kuja by twenty years but still quite handsome and cleverer than a snake, he began to throw on a robe before taking a seat across from the mage, hair slightly grayed at his temples, features sharp but refined, eyes greener than envy. 

“You’re back earlier than I thought you would be.” 

Kuja removed the wristlet from his sleeves, placing it on the table and toward the man, “Have Solomon place this in the next show.” 

Lord King picked up the piece in immediate delight, recognizing the wristlet for what it was worth instantly. “You always do bring the most interesting things.” He placed the piece down back on the table and appraised his “friend”, noting there were no outwardly changes to his partner, thinking perhaps he should call for wine to discuss the man’s current holdings. 

As a silent partner of the establishment, almost half of the houses earnings went directly to the younger man across from him, his investments coming in the form of items such as he brought, usually quadrupling their worth in profits, making the two of them very rich men. To refer to each other as friends was for niceties alone as although they were closer to one another than any other, their relationship was still marred in suspicion of one another. 

Kuja knew if it gained a hefty enough profit, King would turn on him in any way imaginable and King held no doubt that if he crossed the beauty before him, he would be found dead in the most dreadful of manner. 

“That boy didn’t look like he was from around here,” Kuja offered, not really interested in the other man’s current paramour but not immune to light hearted conversation. 

King’s grin widened, “Astute as always.” Getting up to pour the two a glass of wine, he sat back down, his robe opened at the chest, his body relaxed and warm, “An engineer from Lindblum. He followed his would-be fiancé here on the rumor that she had found another. After confirming that truth for himself, I had no other option but to avail myself to him. To comfort him, of course.”

“Of course, “Kuja agreed, sipping at the red liquid smoothly, the taste dry and tart. “And what if he comes back on the morrow with flowers at the gates to court you properly?”

King barked out a laugh, amused at the thought,” You might not be too off, he looks the part, does he not? As his first man, and me being me no less, I wouldn’t be too surprised if he did come calling.” The boast was only in half jest, his pride sometimes running away with him. 

“I doubt it; he’s from Lindblum you said. A droll, buttoned-up sort, that is,” Kuja derided, a delicate finger dancing on the edge of his glass. 

“Not necessarily, not since Cid IX. Have you seen those air cabs? Fascinating things! Droll in fashion, Kuja, but ever efficient and imaginative, I’d say. Between those new streamlined ships and that little lady of his, Cid of Lindblum is a force to be reckoned with.”   
Kuja’s ears perked at the mention of his prisoner, his interest alight. “What would his wife have to do with Lindblum’s so called advancements, as you say?”

King looked at him mid-sip, surprise evident in his expression, “Surely you know she’s the Chief Advisor.”

Kuja waved a hand lazily at him,” Isn’t that just a title given to make his wife look important to the common folk and gentry?”

King drank thoughtfully as he assessed his friend. It had been some time before he had ever had to educate Kuja on anything. He didn’t think there was still a thing the man didn’t know. 

“Yes, initially. But Cid was still in the beginning stages of technological advancement, an engineer at heart. His wife was left alone, given the title of Chief Advisor at sixteen, with a council of old sods still plagued by past wars and corruption. They beat her down and humiliated her every chance they got. Here comes this little girl spouting young idealistic nonsense to old problems as if they could easily be fixed in a group of men set in their ways and in positions longer than she’s been alive. You could imagine the hazing she received.”

“What of it?” Kuja couldn’t help but be interested, the intrigue, albeit old, was always enticing to a man like himself.

“Next thing everyone knows, council members begin resigning or quietly disappearing one by one. In less than half a year, Lady Fabool had replaced every seat with a new representative, making an outsider by the name of Horace Artania minister,” King looked to Kuja with one eyebrow raised, a tilt to the curve of his lips, “Now tell me how a girl of barely seventeen scared off all those powerful fools and set the government of a country in her favor?”

‘Not by legitimate means,’ Kuja thought to himself, a smile of his own curling about the lower half of his face. He thought then to the little woman back in the Kiera desert, curious now about the foundling. How very interesting, indeed. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It had been two weeks since she had seen her captor, having climbed through ladders and shelving of books upon books upon books, most in languages she couldn’t decipher, maps and illustrations occupying her hungry mind and she marveled at the decadence of knowledge in its many forms. There were several grand halls, five to be exact, an enormous dining room with a massive kitchen tucked in the back. There were grand scale open rooms whose function she knew not but stared in awe of none the less, the colors brilliant, and the designs intricate and artistic in its radiance. The light that beamed through the windows on the higher levels was impressive, the colored glass almost humming and vibrating with the heat, making her giddy. Had she still been a student, she would have been foaming at the mouth to her professors’ embarrassment. 

Statues of gargoyles and angels alike littered the establishment, circular rooms here and there, some with coffered domes, others with painted ceilings, warriors and demure beauties in blushing brush strokes. Chandeliers dripped down in pearlescent tendrils, red stoned lanterns on stands creating an eerie glow along quiet hallways, all the rooms without windows darker in atmosphere with a somewhat ominous undertone. 

There were gold railed staircases with lush red carpet and others in hard cold stone with frighteningly sharp spikes to deter the user from using the railing as aid in walking among them, creating a feeling of foreboding. The contrast of these rooms and halls usually determined which ones she chose to explore and those she sensed to avoid. 

For a fortress located underground, she was surprised by the vast amount of plants about, always in great large ornate pots, some flowering, others lush and spindly. 

Working her way down further and further, she happened upon a set of rooms neatly aligned with unknown symbols above each one, no handles nor nobs offered to allow access. In mere curiosity, she placed her hand flat against one, thinking nothing of it before the door slid open and upward within the ceiling, her head following the neat little slit as it disappeared like nothing she had ever seen. She could almost taste it on her tongue and recognized instantly what happened, how the door had come open, her magical signature wafting in the draft that blew from the room. 

How interesting. Even though she had minor magical capabilities, apparently being a mage was enough to gain entry into this room. 

She was too immersed in her musings to pay attention to her surroundings, too accustomed to being alone and nothing coming of it to hear the low rumbling of an off key growl coming from the darkness of the room. And when her senses came into focus, a sickeningly sweet putrid smell making her cough, it was too late. She could hear the drippings of saliva slide off its fangs as she felt its breath against her neck, all within the course of a second, her body too sluggish to move in its fright as a large reversed scissor like claw came slashing down, sawing flesh and meat, so quickly, taking her breath away, the pain exploding throughout her body in a burst of red until all she saw was black. 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

He could sense it the minute it happened, the seal on one of the doors of the labs lifting, even before the Valia Pira could alert him. He had only just arrived merely ten minutes prior, making his way to his rooms before a small essence of another’s magical signature raced through him like a tiny shock. It gave him pause, but only for a split second as he moved to action, opting for the teleportation sigils rather than his own two legs, knowing he didn’t have much time. 

He knew with certainty that his puppets dare not go into the rooms below, calling himself a fool for not knowing that his guest was a mage as well. He didn’t believe her powerful enough to mask it which left him to the conclusion that she was so weak; it had never even crossed his radar, so to speak. 

Within less than a minute he was within the stoned hall, dull red light pulsing from orbed fixtures along the ceiling, his security speaking in his native tongue to alert him of the monsters’ escape. He didn’t need to track it down however as it stood in the hall, it’s back turned to its creator, a body immersed in heavy fabric sliding slowly off its claws with a thud, crimson liquid dripping from the things appendages as a long tongue peeked out of its wide, razor sharp mouth to lick it clean, clearly savoring the flavor. 

He stepped forward slowly, making sure to create no sound however with a heavy sniff; the creature knew he was there, turning to him halfway, torn between the prey at his feet or the new toy down the hall. Without hesitation, he obliterated the monster with a tertiary spell, the creature howling in flames as Firaga consumed him with a heat so scorching that only the smell of it remained. 

He watched the body on the floor, listening to shuddery little breaths like the wings of a caged bird before he made his way over, gingerly turning her around, spotting the injury into her side, blood pooling alarmingly all over her garment, the mess thick and marking the floor. He needed to be quick if he wanted to keep her alive, her chest slowing in its rise and fall. Picking up the small dying thing, he cursed the woman in his arms, his clothes staining with bodily fluid. 

A/N: Thank you for reading, I’m hoping despite my revisions and horrible previous chapters that you liked this even just a little bit!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Chapter 3 now revised. Thank you for reading!

When she awoke, her eyes were heavy, tongue sluggish, mind hazy. She blurrily looked to the ceiling, a soft glow being kind to her eyes, her head lolling to the side. 

There was a man there, the prettiest man she had ever seen, all downy silvery feather hair and cleverly sharp ocean blue eyes, watching her as she tried to place how she knew him. She could see a man like that in a swarm of elegant courtiers, a sea of beautiful essence, and despite their grace, he remained untouchable. What kind of woman, or man, would it take to catch the eye of someone like the one before her?

What would it take to make his heart flutter and to captivate him? Looking to his eyes, even in her drunken state, she doubt someone like him did anything remotely like “flutter” in any capacity, his attention if caught most suitably something intense and binding, soul-consuming. 

In a few blinks and moments of silence, her tired memories pulled together. 

Kuja. That was who was at her side. 

Looking about, she recognized her rooms and a fire blazing in its stone hearth, keeping the desert night air at bay. It took her several tries to will her tongue and throat to move, coercing her body into producing words. 

“What…did…you…give me?”

Her breath was coming in pants from the effort it took to expel the words from her mouth. 

He blinked, long silver lashes sweeping with it. “A pain reliever, a sleeping agent, and a curative spell. You didn’t heed my warning.”

She tried to steady her breathing, alertness coming onto her fruitfully for her efforts. 

“I’ve lost some valuable research material due to your carelessness. The fact that you’re still living means you owe me a debt, my lady.” 

She slowly made to pull her covers down to assess the damage but then realized she was undressed. Completely. She looked to the man beside her but he gave nothing away as he watched her, wearing merely a robe himself, bare feet peeking out the ends of it. 

“My mistake but I wasn’t aware that you yourself were a magic user?” he prompted. Her breathing began to even out, her thoughts clarifying and giving her relief. 

“A red mage. Mostly in name only.” There was no point in lying about her capabilities, especially if what she suspected about his own proved true. 

And she was right. She could pose no threat to him. While a well seasoned red mage was a jack of all trades, they were a master of none, the most skillful only capable of secondary level spells. 

“Are there more of those creatures down there? Are those what those rooms are filled with?” 

“For each room resides one unlike the other,” he replied, settling into his chair more comfortably. 

A master at ease within his own home. 

“Why would you ever keep such things in your residence? Where did you find them?!”

“These are not local species but of my own creation. They’re failures. But that doesn’t necessarily make them useless. Yet.” Their eyes locked at the horrible revelation, what little color she had in her face draining from it. 

“You…made that thing?” Incredulous. 

He shrugged, not bothered by the horror in her question, “I did. And now it’s gone.” He rolled his shoulders, leaning back into his chair, his hands over lapping and resting on top of one another as he closed his eyes. “They are to keep intruders out as well as to provide material for further creations. You were merely the fool who stumbled upon them despite my words.”

There was silence, reflection, and fright that followed and for a moment, Hilda wondered if the man beside her bed had fallen asleep. 

“Mr. Kuja?”

He opened his eyes, looking to her to confirm he was still awake and very much alert. 

“Your debt, madam. You may pay it now.” 

She stilled, thinking to her nakedness under the covers momentarily before he made a gesture in annoyance, clearly reading the thoughts off her face and dispelling her fears. 

“Tell me how you constructed the current Lindblum High Council. And you know in which manner I mean.” She swallowed at that, the way he said it, as if he knew exactly how such a thing had come about. She thought about it, turning it over, wondering how such a story would benefit him. It was almost ten years too late to try to bring any charges against her and what evidence would he have? Kidnapping her alone would distort anything he would try to say against her in a tribunal. Amusement then, she concluded. He merely wanted to hear the tale himself, if nothing more than to pass the time. 

She relaxed into her pillows, looking to the ceiling, ignoring the fact she was naked, talking to a man who kept her prisoner so very very far from her home, and began to weave through the mire of her memories as she spoke about the events that had transpired shortly after her marriage to Regent Cid IX of Lindblum. 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

She had indeed been idealistic. Cid valued her wit and intelligence, boastful that his young bride could indeed be the change that their government needed. He was quick to announce her role as Chief Advisor, access to any and all political meetings and decisions granted to her. Bolstered by Cid’s confidence in her, she quickly brought forth recommendations of reform and restructuring campaigns, backed by legitimate studies, accountability, and projected proposals from only the best and most reliable sources. Never did a one see the light of day as they were turned down in rapid succession, each one fodder for open derision as she was condescendingly mocked for her naiveté and youthful ideology. Cid was so buried in his R&D division, his personal funds almost depleted, and he was counting on her to do her part, the two of them relying on one other to bring their mutual plan to reality. To turn Lindblum into a state of modern advancement with jobs to spares, to create a foot hold for the poor to have a chance to step forward and make a part of it their own. 

One such occasion left her shaking and seething, her mind a pier of fiery rage at her helplessness and absolute humiliation. 

She had had the fortune of meeting a Sir Leo Fratley, whispers of a travelling dragoon reaching the Grand Castle, stirring a little girl longing within her as she left swiftly in common travelling attire to the pub he was rumored to be staying in. It was no reach to find the soldier, tall and lithe, pike resting against a hip, his demeanor cordial but trained, respectable and impressive. She could almost squeal in delight if she was a lesser girl. After a brief introduction, the Burmecian listened to her missive, taken aback by the keen and clever proposal the girl offered, a friendly conversation striking between the two, her and her passion for her country, himself and his travelers spirit which would one day fuel his nephews. He took her letters and made her no promises as to their outcome but assured her he would deliver them to his king none the less. She had been giddy with this sudden turn of events, hopeful that an audience would be granted, and that for the first time in a month since she had accepted her position, something was finally going her way. 

Luck had seemed to be on her side as within a half a month, a courier, a Burmecian courier, arrived with a royal sealed envelope from the King of Burmecia no less, accepting her proposal of an audience, his stipulation being that it happened within the Grand Castle of Lindblum rather than his, his people still weary and discouraging of outsiders. She had gladly accepted, sending a missive to the council for attendance, feeling on top of the world. 

“Hilda girl, whatever for?” Cid had asked, not negative in the least but honest curiosity, smiling at her. 

“Trade, of course! If we could establish a new market and buy goods that have never even left their country, the gains would be astronomical!” Cid had clapped her on the back in amusement, taken in with her joy, the two conspiring at the step forward this progress would create.

“How did you manage something that other’s could not?” he marveled, smoothing her hair back in affection as he peered down at her. 

“I imagine it had nothing to do with me and more from the dragoon I was able to speak with. From the results, I reckon he must hold a great amount of weight among their aristocracy.” 

Their arrival was met with civility and decorum, dragoons in tow, fierce guards standing well over six feet on either side of their King as they were welcomed into the Grand Castle by the Chief Advisor herself, escorted personally to a rounded table in the grandest state room, her enthusiasm kept in check despite her excitement. The countries representatives did not stand nor offer any cordiality to the royalty in attendance, merely sat in their seats, a mutual look of displeasure among the lot. 

In an attempt to mask the slight with her manners, she began speaking immediately in earnest, projecting her proposal for trade, knowing full well that Lindblum currency held no weight to the country of Burmecia, inviting trade a of Lindblum moonstone in exchange for Burmecian mythril ore. 

The materials offered would benefit the weaponry of the dragon knights, stones that would obviously pander to the King’s interest. In turn, their surplus of ore that was overflowing in the rats’ mines could be traded in turn, Lindblum refining the gems into fuel sources for coolants to be installed within their airships. Plowing through her campaign, it was Duke Claven who interrupted first, his attitude self assured with title and tenure,” I apologize your Majesty, our little lady advisor is quite new in her position but eager to please, I assure you. What she has failed to tell you and yours is that we lack the man power to undertake such a task to mine such a hardened material. Lindblum has many feats to boast of yet sadly we are lacking in this capacity.”

“Furthermore,” Sir Elex,”she has also failed to enquire to us in this matter, her willfulness and lack of proper conduct in seeking the advice of this here council would have saved you a needless trip and us our valuable time as we would never approve of exporting materials that would strengthen the army of another country in the event that they would turn on us to use them against us!”

“As a young bride, she has yet to learn the ways of keeping her husband in her bed much less coercing foreign nobility into fruitless negotiations, “Duke Rufus added, the room deafening into humiliating silence. 

Tears had burned as she dug her nails into her palm, keeping them at bay in order to save some form of face as she stood before the room, defeated, her mind racing to find a way to save her campaign and coming to the conclusion just as fast that there was none.   
The King left quickly with his dragoons, silent yet seeming unaffected by the human men’s words, an untouchable and refined air about him as he exited in regal fashion. Hilda was quick to follow, issuing an apology as they descended the stairs to the lower tiers of the castle, almost having to run to keep up in pace with the much taller men’s gait. 

He stopped abruptly, his demeanor cool yet his words wise,” Lady Fabool.” He looked over his shoulder at her before turning to face her, taking a step closer, their differences in height astounding. 

“I concur with your representatives; you do have much to learn.” She winced at his words, stilling herself from biting her lips. 

“But you are still young and far cleverer than perhaps even you give yourself credit for.” Her mouth parted slightly at his admission, surprised. 

“Your proposal. It is mighty good and I do believe it would be advantageous for the both of our states. Fix your affairs accordingly,” he advised, turning to take his leave, his parting words tossed over his shoulders, “and I shall hear you out once more.”

She could do nothing but gape as he existed in a flourish, something like hope igniting within her. She visited her father that night, in need of council. 

Professor Gerrick listened to his daughters’ ordeal, not impressed nor surprised by the turn of events, sipping an awful tonic his sister in law had pushed upon him to help him sleep better at night. 

“It seems you’re in need of an ally, Hilda.” Setting the glass down, he pulled her chair closer, causing her to hold onto the furniture as her father tugged the girl along, his head bowed and almost touching hers. 

“Remember when I left you and your aunt for six months for Alexandria?” She nodded, her father working in a temporary exchange program between universities. “Well during my stay, I met a man by the name of Horace Artania. The cleverest man I ever met girl, damn smart, with a wicked since of humor. He taught politics but was relieved of his duties, the dean determining him too focused on government upheavals and revolutions. I’m sure it was due to paranoia more than anything else but he was let go none the less. I can think of no man better Hilda, if you can win him over. He could burn a hole through all those fools with that tongue of his, all while plotting their demise.” 

“But if he is from Alexandria, why would he align himself with Lindblum?” 

“I don’t think such things are of interest to his sort. He’s always been more focused on the under-privileged and their right to equality. Find him, Hilda. He may just suit your needs quite rightly.”

After several discreet inquiries, she learned that there was one Horace Artania in Treno, quick to leave alone lest any of the states representatives learned of what she was on about. She wore solid and dull colors, a brown travelling cloak hiding her features as she traversed the dangerous slums of the city of perpetual night, slipping coins into roughened hands, being directed to the most run down and bawdy of Treno’s brothels. She had not disclosed her plans to her husband, knowing he would have refused her request to partake of such a perilous undertaking, merely explaining that she was visiting relatives abroad. 

It was a miracle she was neither robbed nor raped, so many ominous shadows and lurking goons watching her every move in suspicion, her steps measured to neither be too quick nor too slow. She stopped at the deteriorating building she had been instructed to, hardly any light peeping through curtained windows, indiscreet sounds loud enough to be heard from the street. There was no sign, there would not be, not for such an establishment. There were many as such in every city, in every district, and for a moment, she had wished this was one of the finer businesses, with a clean and discreet appearance rather than the one she stood before. Snorting un-ladylike at the brief, strange thought she momentarily allowed herself to wallow in, she moved forward, her fingers lacing over the drawstring of her coin pouch. 

Being rebuffed initially as she knew she would, it cost her three thousand gil to have the man at the front interrupt their patron. She knew the price was far more than what they most likely would have settled for had she negotiated but she didn’t care. She sat down in what she hoped was the cleanest chair in the “lobby”, her ears remaining open for any movement lest she had been tricked. 

“Your clothes may have disguised you well enough but your posture does not. Who are you?” She wanted to smile, knowing it was the man she had been looking for despite never having met. She turned to look over her shoulder, bowing her head slightly in greeting.

”Mr. Artania.” 

He didn’t bow nor address her, merely waited for her to answer his question. With long ashen brown hair and several weeks’ worth of facial growth, he was not well put together, a far off cry from any scholar she had ever met. Tall and lanky, he had dark circles under his grey eyes, his robe haphazardly closed. He was not ugly but not handsome either. 

She stood then to face him head on; locking eyes with him to impart her earnestness to him despite the strange circumstances they both were in, “My father is Artemis Gerrick. He advised that I should seek your council in some difficult circumstances that I have found myself in.”

She could see the recognition in his expression, his features softening a little as his shoulders relaxed a bit,” Gerrick, you say. And what might his little girl,” and he looked about their surroundings, “be searching me out for un-escorted at night and in such a place as this?”

He didn’t look embarrassed in the least about being found in the run-down brothel but his voice was a little disconcerting as she could now smell alcohol on his person but his words and manner of speech were very articulated. 

“This “little girl” is the Chief Advisor to the Regent of Lindblum.”

His eyes widened but only a second before his features hardened, his eyes brows furrowing, “What is it do you want?” 

“I am nothing more than a young fool, sir, who cannot care for her people nor better their circumstances in any capacity. My Regent is at the forefront of groundbreaking developments that would elevate his people with safe travel and job opportunities, his own coffers nearly depleted in his efforts to make his work a reality.”

Something she said obviously struck with him as his earlier displeasure at hearing her title evaporated. 

And your dilemma?” She didn’t take offense at his lack of address, confident in her father’s words. 

“My council is full of veteran members who are only after their own interest. And I am not strong enough to fight them.”

There was a moment of silence as he openly assessed her, taking in her words and comparing them to the small woman before him. 

“And you have come to me to ask me what you should do in regards to them?”

“I have come calling that you ally yourself with me, a stranger, a daughter of a long ago acquaintance, to become the strength I lack but require to see my plans through.”

She thought she saw the corners of his lips twitch but was unsure. 

“And what strength do you believe that I possess that would enable such a feat?”

Her father had mentioned the man’s dismissal from the Alexandrian university was due to his emphasis on lectures concerning revolution and such. 

“I need council on how to crush those that would stand above all others for their own self-serving satisfaction.” Her voice was cold intent, not masking her meaning. 

“Those are mighty big words, little one.” Again, silence. A long spell of it as she waited, searching his face, hoping to find what she desired. 

And when he spoke, she let out a gust of breath she had not realized she had been holding. 

“When do we begin?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

They shared a tiny room aboard a cargo ship on the way to Lindblum, neither one mentioning what such an action would look like in polite society. She had purchased him alternate attire before their exit from Alexandria and in the corner of their small cabin; he had trimmed his facial hair with a dullish knife, making him look somewhat more approachable. Eventually breaking the silence, he sat on the cot across from her own, hands at his knees. 

“So, you need me to be your dagger but what others have you allied yourself with in order to see this plan through?” 

“You are the first.”

He nodded at that, assuming as much. 

“I’m quite new in my tenure, sir, about two months so. I may lack experience but I am not so foolish as to not see what is right in front me.”

“I am curious as to why the Regent would deem such a young one as you to fill this role. It is a much-coveted position; I imagine there is many an experienced politician biting at the opportunity.”

“I am his wife.” 

Had he been drinking, he would have choked; the reaction surprised enough to make a small grin creep along her face. 

“And you decided to only tell this to me now?”

“It wasn’t my intention to keep it from you. I wanted you to understand that I was approaching you as a Chief Advisor, not a wife.” Her words spoken were pure honesty and something brief moved within him. 

Quiet ensued for a time before he spoke again, needing a moment to organize his thoughts as he registered this new information. 

“Your father might have mentioned that I am not fond of nobility. In my younger days, I was enthusiastic and confident in my ideals. I admit that time and failure has made me somewhat cynical.” 

He looked at her again, eyes boring into hers. 

“But you are not born from nobility. And you have a look about you and a manner in which you speak that rings truth. For lack of better judgment, I’ll take a chance on helping you. But only you and not your Regent. Do you understand what I am saying?”

Something heavy settled on her chest, taking her breath away. He would be her ally. But only hers. And if the guillotine were to fall on her lest she be caught, her failure would also be his demise. The way he was looking at her and the power in the words in which he had spoken to her made her want to do whatever it took to ensure his loyalty would not be misplaced. 

She extended her hand, never moving her gaze from his, her words meaningful,” I do, Mr. Artania. And I hope in time, I will have the opportunity to show you my gratitude to the fullest.”

grasped her own, firmly, a bargain struck. 

“So,” he announced, withdrawing his hand to clap it against his own, the sudden sound almost making her jump,” you have no one particularly loyal to you, including your husband?”

“My husband is to know nothing of this. If anything were to come back on either of us, I want there to be no evidence that he was ever involved.”

He nodded in agreement at this. 

“And you have no spies?”

She shook her head,” No. I come to my room sometimes to notice things have been tampered with, namely letters, my journals, etc. I understand that any number of things will need to be moved in order to properly clean but the manner in which these items are handled has let me know I am being monitored. By whom and under whose instruction could be just about anyone. I cannot dismiss any of the help without catching them in the act itself.”

“You will not need to dismiss anyone, Hilda.” He still did not address her by any of her titles but that fact made her feel confident in their partnership, an equality among two souls bent on reform. “You will need to win them over. By not letting on that you know of their misdeeds and by being the hand that they can rely on and turn to in trouble, you can create an army of loyal spies among your servants alone.”

How very tactful this man was. Her father had made no mistake in advising her to seek him out. 

“Now tell me what you know about each one of these men, leave no detail out no matter how trivial you might think it is.” He leaned forward, voice lowering slightly. 

“Do you not need pen and paper sir?”

He smiled at that, tapping his temple with his index finger, “Trust me, I’ll remember everything.”

She began with Sir. Elex, the first of twelve members, his seniority in his seat, his title, lands, designated household, 3 children, 4 grandchildren, and no living spouse. Despite his accounted circumstances, he lived above his means, highly so, but there were no creditors seeking him out and his finances in his banking establishment were clean of red. 

Duke Rufus lived within the capital proper despite his country estate, no children, never married. His household staff changed entirely every three months but were compensated handsomely for their short employment.

She continued on for two additional hours and when she was finished, the older man deemed it time they went to sleep, filing away the information his companion had given him, two quiet “goodnights” whispered into the dark after the lantern was blown out, their cloaks used as additional blankets to keep out the cold in their tiny cabin. 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Mr. Artania took residence within Mr. Gerrick’s household to reduce any suspicion and reports that might be made had he stayed in the castle proper, giving him ease of access to the Chief Advisor of Lindblum as a scholarly acquaintance of the lady’s father.   
He was quick to action within less than a day of their arrival, giving strict instruction that no correspondence between them ever be by letter and anytime they were to meet, it would be through her father’s missive instead of their own, to erase suspicion. 

“Twelve is a mighty large feat,” she mused aloud, sitting in her father’s office at the university, the man in mid-lecture, leaving the two alone. 

“We don’t need to worry about all of them, Hilda. Once we begin, only the fools will try to retaliate. The smarter ones will recognize the storm for what it is and quietly relieve themselves of their positions once we make examples of the first few.”

He had set their focus on Duke Rufus first, quietly taking to pubs himself discreetly to inquire about any servants whom had worked in the man’s household and were currently seeking employment. Finding two young men in their early twenties, a Gaddes and an Alan, he immediately set them up as staff within the Grand Castle to their enthusiastic gratitude. 

Hilda waited a week, long enough for the men to get comfortable, before accidentally knocking into one strolling down the Red Hall, tea and cream soaking into the delicate fabric of her dress. 

“M-My Lady, I am s-sorry,” dark hair with stunning green eyes peered down at her in helplessness and she felt sorry for the stuttering man, quick to help him pick up the porcelain from the red carpet, smiling at him softly to assure him the mistake was hers and that he needn’t fuss over her. 

“It’s not the first time I have done such a fool thing, I’m half-convinced that I just might need a pair of spectacles…sorry, your name sir?”

“G-Gaddes, my lady.” 

With feigned surprise, her eyebrows rose and she placed her hand on his, her smile becoming even warmer,” Gaddes Lott, the one Falco recommended!” she exclaimed, using Duke Rufus’ given name to give a sense of familiarity. 

“Recommended?” 

She nodded several times, her fingers squeezing his hand slightly, “I have had some recent trouble with some of my staff, you see, I feel there are a many that take advantage of my youth and assume I am naïve and not necessarily deserving of respect, so I feel my requests go ignored.” She schooled her features into an expression of trouble, “I know I have much to learn but I do want to do well. Falco was quite understanding of my issue and made some recommendations of his most reliable past staff, the only trouble being that he only had names to give and no other information. I was quite elated when my messenger informed me had found you and Alan. You being here is of the utmost help!”

A bright blush began staining his cheeks, seeping into the flesh of his face so deeply, much like the tea and cream on her dress. 

“I was quite s-sure that the Duke didn’t l-like me at all, my lady.” His brows knitted together in confusion,” He had only ever complained.” 

She gave a small chuckle and a pat, “That’s just his disposition, he is taciturn by nature. And please call me Hilda, you’re older than I am!” 

“I don’t think I can do that.”

She looked hurt, using her small stature to her advantage, “We’re friends, are we not? I had actually meant to press upon you a task I don’t feel confident in just giving anyone. And…it’s lonely with no one on my side. Can you understand?”

She had to hold in her breath of relief when she felt his hand grasp hers,” I’m on your side. Y-you said you had your man seek me out. What can I do to help?”

She smiled brightly. 

“I have you and Alan now, for that which I am grateful. But there are still too many people here that I cannot rely on. Do you perhaps have any recommendations yourself from your time under the Duke’s care? I fear he will not lend me any of his current help.”

He nodded, a smile overcoming his own face, making his handsome features stand out. 

“I can give you the names. Although…the ones that were dismissed before we were changed out, I assume you wouldn’t want those.”

“Dismissed? Whatever for?”

He shrugged, becoming more relaxed,” Some were caught stealing, others breaking household rules. All sorts. About half were dismissed early during my time there.”

She remembered Artania’s words, to not let any details no matter how trivial, to go amiss. 

“I think I might like to have those too, Gaddes. Sometimes others just need a hand of understanding to turn a new leaf, don’t you think so?”

He smiled in slight confusion,” If you think so, Hilda. I’ll give them to you straight away.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Artania handed the fifteen names Gaddes had designated as help that were fired back to Hilda, her father sitting next to her on a chair. 

“I have located all the former servants your new friend recommended however of these, I have located none. When sending an investigator to their families, it seems that each unfortunate soul had gone missing after their dismissal. Their families all seem to be those in poverty, their complaints and requests for investigations going on deaf ears.”

“Where are these people then?” Hilda’s father asked, leaning over, his hands between his boots. 

“I’m not sure. But this Alacie Barton has a sister under your care, Hilda,”Artania pointed to one of the names on the list. “She was given to you as staff from Sir Elex. Perhaps you can find something.”

Hilda’s attention perked at this, the coincidence being too much to ignore. 

The prospect of so many people disappearing was haunting. And if this was a trend, the numbers, if they could be traced, might be great. 

She didn’t hesitate to locate the sister, catching the woman by surprise no less as she entered her chambers to see her rifling through her writing desk. 

Aracie jumped in surprise, stepping to the side and placing one hand in the other, clearly caught of trespass. She said nothing, her face devoid of emotion, waiting for punishment. The two women stared at one another in silence, waiting for the other to move.   
“Aracie Clearwater.” Hilda called to her, waiting for the woman to respond. 

“My lady.”

“You’re in here to clean more than most.”

“I am.”

“Why is that?”

Aracie said nothing, almost stoic in her demeanor. Small and slight, much like herself, with smallish, pretty features, and pale blonde hair pinned back with trimmed bangs above clear blue eyes. 

“Then I shall say it for you. Sir Elex has instructed you to spy on me. Now the question is how much is he compensating you for your efforts?”

“Nothing, my lady.”

“Then you shall be in some financial circumstances if I were to have you removed.”

A reaction then, a widening of the eyes, but still she did not move. 

“Perhaps I could buy your loyalty for the right price?”

“How much?” There was no hesitation in her response, the woman before her serious, almost deadly so. 

Hilda raised an eyebrow in turn, “How much is enough?”

“My son is sick. I cannot afford a doctor or medicine. You will provide these things for him.”

Hilda felt her face relax then, gesturing for Aracie to follow as she made to the door, “Then let us not hesitate.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

It was two in the morning in the slums of Lindblum, Hilda sitting on the floor of a tiny bedroom as Aracie held her five year old little boy in her lap, the boy’s breath evening out, color returning to his cheeks. The doctor had just left half an hour ago, writing his directions for further treatment and leaving two separate tonics to be taken each night before bed. 

“Aracie,” Hilda finally spoke, sensing relief in the woman above her, holding on to the little one in her lap fiercly,” Do you know what has happened to Alacie?”

She looked to the noble woman sitting on her rotting floor, marveling at the circumstances she found herself in. “You know about Alacie?” A bitter smirk took her face as she whispered; her face etched in a life of lessons learned the hard way. “I was told that if I didn’t look at your things and report what I found, that I would be taken as well.”

“Taken where?”

“To the brothels at the mines.”

“The moonstone mines? There are none registered there, it would be too far to monitor.”

They were both silent as Hilda processed this information. 

“So the missing servants are all sent to this hidden business?”

“Some are and others are used as forced labor in the mines. They don’t come back, my lady.” This was said with quiet finality. 

She remembered the rebuke she had received at her audience with the King of Burmecia, made to look the fool as it was brought to light that there was not enough man power to extract the precious stones from the earth to accommodate orders from another countries military. 

“This is why Rufus is changing hands so often. Filtering those who are of use to his and Elex’s schemes.”

Aracie nodded, already knowing the truth to these horrors. 

“Who is all aware of this?”

“Virtually no one. I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time to hear the details and in turn was given to you mam, to spy on you in order to not be taken too.”

Hilda stood then, her bones beginning to ache, “You may stay here for the night, Aracie. I must retire.” 

The maid didn’t see her out, nor did she wish her too, too focused on her little boy in her arms. 

She made a mental note to look into her staff’s wages, not understanding why a doctor could not be afforded if working in the Grand Castle no less! She went straight to her father’s house to wake Artania, giving strict instructions to collect Aracie and her family immediately and to place them into a hidden home until everything came to pass. She relayed the information she received, the man fully awake by the time she was finished, the cogs of his mind already turning at the prospect. 

“Go home and rest. Surely your husband will notice your absence. In this we will need his assistance but spare the details so that he will not be aware of what we are about.”

He instructed her to have him conduct a simple inspection of the mine. Once they find the workers unaccounted for by surprise, the brothel, the missing people, and those involved will all follow suit.

She returned home immediately, finding Cid in her chambers, his hair standing on all ends as he sat in her bed still fully dressed. 

“Where have you been?!” he nearly hollered, clearly alarmed and more than a little worried. She could have almost laughed as she sat next to him, almost having to hop in order to clear the length of the mattress from the floor. 

“I have many things to tell you, but I cannot just yet. I need you to trust me. And I need a favor.” 

The Regent looked to his young wife in annoyance, but complied all the same, listening to her missive, wanting to question her, but knowing it would do no good to not listen to her instructions exactly as she had dictated them. 

The Regent followed through his Chief Advisor’s request to the letter, sending an order for a standard inspection from the city capital without notice, Artania and Hilda’s plan executed quite nicely. Duke Rufus was brought before a tribunal, his staffing records matching some of the workers found within the mines and the unlisted business secretly adjoined to it, profit from both establishments received into the account of the Duke and Sir Elex per secret ledgers found in their offices within their homes. 

Stripped of titles, estates confiscated, they were imprisoned forth with and a meeting was conducted to address the remaining members in concern of their two newly opened seats. 

Hilda’s face was devoid of emotion as she spoke, “I have two individuals that I would like to extend an invitation to concerning our new openings. I have two personal acquaintances from my time in the university, recommended by Dean Hessain himself, I-“

Cut off, to no surprise, the rebuttal expected,” Lady Hilda, we need to propose individuals with experience, not scholarly friends who have no grasp what running an actual country is like outside of their libraries and laboratories.”

She locked eyes with Lord Kaynes, needing to impart the seriousness of their situation,” Indeed sir, Mr. Ferris Yule is a professor of Politics and Social Science for the past twenty years. Miss. Daersere’ Langford is a design engineer, with twelve years of experience in her field and is highly commended.”

“Have you looked into their backgrounds? We cannot have another scandal such as the one we are in now?” Sir Thane. 

“Indeed. Just as I had investigated Duke Rufus and Sir Elex, I will be initiating an investigation into all members of this council, lest there be anything untoward going on without me knowing of it.”

Silence enveloped the room. 

“Your investigation, Lady Hilda?”

She nodded, looking to Reano and then to Pendle as the latter asked, “You did?”

She inclined her head again, but did not let up on her stare, letting her body language speak for itself. 

The silence was deafening. 

And just as Artania predicted, the resignations came in one after another, those with anything to hide quicker than those who realized they were being out numbered in opinion, also following suit. 

And as she had promised herself, she made sure that Mr. Artania would not regret having allied himself with her. 

With Cid’s approval, she sipped her tea delicately in her father’s drawing room as the older man sat across from her, unsure of the news she had brought.

“I want to express my gratitude for everything you have done for me and the future of this state.”

“I can think of an outrageous amount of gil if you’re having difficulties, Hilda.”

She laughed at that, looking into his ashen eyes before becoming serious once more,” That would come too. And residence within the Grand Castle, if you choose to except.”

The proposition of a position caught him a little off guard, as he had believed his duty done. The most logical thing would to be compensated monetarily and sent home like a dirty little secret never to be brought up in polite society again. 

“What do you have in mind?”

“I’m in dire need of a minister, sir, and I would accept none other than yourself. Surely you can pity me enough to not leave a lady such as myself in desperate need?”

The wind was knocked right out of him, his eyes almost bulging. After several attempts, words were finally coming forth from his mouth, but in a very undignified and stuttering manner, which was very much unlike him. 

“M-minister, me? S-surely…”

She laughed at the reaction, so dislike him as it was, almost spilling her tea. And then she did, when she felt herself grasped soundly and almost shook as he spun her around, just like a child, his laughter loud and heart-felt, hugging her tightly to himself before he let her go. 

“You are something else, Hilda, you- “and he paused there, releasing her, bowing formerly for the first time ever. 

“I accept gladly, Lady Fabool. Very much so.” 

In time, Artania, Cid, and Hilda became the three pillars on which Lindblum stood, Cid bringing the state forth in modernity, Hilda and Artania working in the background to not only support their Regent’s dreams but to bolster their fruition with the prosperity of their people. 

Artania learned in time to see as Hilda did, his loyalty extending to the Regent as well, developing a friendship that he would hold close to himself during his service, his name quickly becoming one of respectability and esteem. 

When Hilda divulged her actions to her husband after her affairs were concluded, he all but hollered at her, hands twitching in an effort to not shake her. And only after his panic attack did his chest swell with pride as he grabbed her up roughly and kissing her soundly, stroking her cheek in affection as he marveled at his little wife. 

“I told you, didn’t I?” he boasted, “That if anyone could do it, it would be my little Hilda.” She scoffed at him but was warmed none the less, her husband’s continuous confidence the very thing that had started it all. Her schemes had been devious and dishonest and it did not justify the ends, she would remind herself. She never wanted to ever believe that doing wrong was good, no matter in what capacity. So, she recognized herself as a villain, albeit a small one, and placed it in a box within her mind to be thought about from time to time lest she ever forget, so that she would never become one of the very men she had driven out of her assembly. 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

She had never bothered to even turn his way during the course of her story, only doing so as she had finished, looking to see him very much awake and seemingly enraptured in the memories she had recounted. 

He was looking at her in a way she had not seen before, albeit their time together had not been very long. Something almost resembling respect, but she would tell herself to not be so sure, not trusting the man before her to ever bestow anything so positive upon her person. She was his prisoner no less. And not due to any interest in her, but her husband’s machine. 

“I almost wish I could have been there to see it,” he mused aloud, index finger at his lip,” It seems very much like a play.” 

He looked to the woman next to him, trying to imagine her as a sixteen-year-old girl, already knee deep in political schemes as she moved the very government of her country to her favor. It was also a telling warning for him to take note. His captive was capable of far more than he had originally thought, no simpering, crying noblewoman, not at all. 

He would have never believed such a tale had it come only from her but it was King who had originally enlightened him of her past power move, solidifying what she had told him. 

Standing, he decided to make his exit, wanting to savor the story to himself in his private rooms. Although the wound had been cured, the side effects of such a hastily made spell would still be there. Phantom pains, fever, and lethargy. The tonic he had given her for pain should be wearing off soon. He decided it best to not give her another. 

‘Let them overcome you. There’s a lesson to be learned from your trespass, my lady,’ he thought, excusing himself from her room, leaving her alone to the pain and heat that would eventually consume her the rest of the night and next day. 

A/N: I wanted “Irontail” Frately to be the dragoon Hilda had met but the timeline didn’t fit, so “Uncle Leo” was introduced. I apologize for the rushed chapter, when I first thought of this part, I didn’t realize the scope of the mini story and how big it actually was, trying to fit it all in just one chapter. I apologize! Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N:_ ** _Chapter 4 done! Now I need to redo Ch 5 and add to 6. Thank you for sticking with me and taking the time to read this, I hope you enjoy!_

 

When her fever broke and she felt she could breathe, she gazed about her room listlessly, her bed covers covered in sweat. It took what felt like ages for her to be able to find the strength to confidently climb out of bed, still naked from the two nights past, hair matted to the sides of her face and neck.

When the pain had begun to crawl and sink it’s fangs into her nerves, she had wondered if someone was coming to give her anything to abate the agony she was plunging into. After several hours, when her vision began to swim, she knew then that no such comfort would be afforded her.

She was being _punished_.

Slipping in and out of consciousness, her teeth gritted during her more lucid hours, she suffered her penance alone until sleep overcame her.

She stumbled to the tub, mumbling a water incantation, whispering a tiny thank you in the room as she was met with success, slipping into the freezing stuff, sighing in relief at the coolness against her heated skin. She soaked until her teeth began to chatter, looking to the four-inch-long scar above her hip, poking and prodding the puckering jagged thing in mild curiosity and comparing to the still fresh one on her arm.

If she were able to ever be fortunate enough to return home, would she jokingly glorify them as battle scars to her husband in efforts to allay his fright?

The small smile that had come across her features at the thought disappeared as she remembered the reason for their parting, the anger she felt before gone, replaced with hurt.

Perhaps he didn’t need her back, at least not as a wife. She thought of all the times he had strayed, and how each time she had refused to show him her hurt, her pride not allowing her to bend. She had only shown him her disapproval.

And quietly she would go into her chambers in the night and cover her face with a pillow and make muffled sounds that sounded like crying, but never would she admit that she indeed did. And no one would ever be the wiser that the Regent’s Chief Advisor wasn’t anything but a symbol of the strength of Lindblum.

She would admit that there were many times when her roles as Lady Fabool and Cid’s wife were blurred, unable to differentiate between the two. Would it have been better had she told Cid how his indiscretions had made her feel? Would he have still gone out to seek other women if maybe she had imparted the depth of her hurt to him?

She didn’t know. She wondered if he was even looking for her. And could he, after what she had done to him?

Climbing from the tub after scrubbing hard at her skin, she thought it would be best to visit the library in hopes she could find something that might tell her how to undo what she had wrought. Perhaps he was already to his former capacities by a much more experienced and skillful mage, but just in case, if she were ever to see him again, she would need to restore him back to his human self.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

 

Kuja made his way to the library after spotting one of his puppets clearing dishes from the dining hall, the little man informing his master that his captive had requested a meal prior. Assuming she had recovered and most likely occupying her most favored haunt in his abode, he discovered her asleep, her face pressed against a pillow on a chaise, two open books on the table next to the furniture.

He stopped before her, quietly assessing her features as her back rose and fell, her breathing stable and calm despite the lack of color in her face. He recognized that her little nap would be one of many for the next few days as she continued to heal, not sure what to make of the result of his quick actions in healing his captive. He should have thanked the manufactured creature and be done with it. In reality, having what sounded like a very capable public figure removed from one of the very countries he was plotting the downfall of only furthered his goals to his favor.

He remembered how he had been mildly surprised at how very light she had been in his arms as he carried her to her rooms, a mess trailing behind them in their wake. He had angrily muttered a Curaga before they had even reached the floor, annoyed at the situation. Placing her on the bed, he was quick to realize the dress she wore was no longer mend-able between the tears and stains, removing it from her in turn. Having to partially remove some of his own clothing due to the blood that has seeped into the fabric, he began to look to the damage on her person, partially naked himself, his fingers tracing the marred flesh, knowing before he even saw that his spell was nothing if not perfect.

He had cleansed her with a wetted cloth, wiping himself off as well, and her breathing began to stabilize after he had ministered a sleep spell to allow her body to take the much needed rest it would need to jump start the rest of her healing. After his irritation began to ebb away did he look to the woman before him, exposed and unaware.

His hand slid away from her hip and down to her thigh, his fingers pressing slightly into the soft flesh, as his eyes moved from her incredibly small feet, upward toward her flat stomach to her breasts, her thin long neck, then face, her lashes thick and black, her hair golden and short, curling at the underside of her face. She was beautiful, there was no doubt that Cid IX had procured himself a rather fine prize in a wife, but she wasn’t anything exceptional, her looks better than others but not the kind of face that would start any skirmish among suitors. He imagined it was her clever mind and her presence that drew others in.

From what he was learning of her past and his own interactions with the lady before him, he could develop an idea of the kind of woman others perceived her to be. Strong, resilient, poised, and possibly untouchable. A woman to yield to.

Did her husband yield to her?

He removed his hand, reaching for her bedcovers and pulling it over her body, turning to leave for his own chambers to change, knowing she would still be sleeping before he returned.

Thinking back to the present, he looked to the books next to her, curious at what she was pouring through now that she was able to move about once again. Folding his hands into his sleeves, he bent over, tilting his head to the side to read the open pages.

The first was about magically induced body transformations. And the second…

_Oglops?_

Frowning in thought, he wondered at the connection of the two. Surely she didn’t think she could transform someone here into such a thing, least of all him? It sounded downright _childish_.

He looked to the woman again, trying to piece the books together. Such a trick didn’t sound like the woman he was growing to know. If she was interested in besting any magical capabilities while under his care, he imagined it would be something that would kill him on the spot. Not that he thought she held any chance of executing such a feat.

Coming to the conclusion that his initial thought had been wrong, he turned away, putting it from his mind as he left his captive alone to continue to sleep.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

She woke late, unsure if it was still night or day. She was hungry, ravenous even, despite having eaten just before her long nap. Looking to the books before her, she closed them both before scooping them into her arms, making her way to the kitchens.

She had told one of the little men earlier that she was in need of a meal and despite no reply and what seemed like zero acknowledgement on their part, one had quietly brought her a plate of piping hot pastries and cheese with warm fruit tea, saying nothing as the plates were put forth her, leaving just as quietly as they came.

Stepping into the room, she paused, but only briefly, to see the silvery man at the head of the table, pouring through his evening meal in silence. Even though he didn’t bother to look up at her, she dared didn’t think for one moment that he didn’t know she wasn’t there.

Uninvited, she took a place a few seats away, placing her books to the side of her, settling down as a plate, almost out of nowhere, was put before her with food, a glass set down and again, her husband’s wine, poured into the cup. Quietly, she began to eat, enjoying the warmth of each bite as it met her tongue, wanting to hum with the sensation but declining the indulgence. When she was finished, a thick slice of chocolate cake replaced her empty plate and she stared at it in mild wonder, marveling at the dripping icing.

She looked to the man at the head of the table as she realized he was watching her with his arms crossed on the table, his plate also gone, although there was no cake, only his drink. He nodded toward the confection, silently telling her to get on with it.

Plucking a new fork from the table, she did just that, her mouth sliding over the cutlery as the sweetness of the icing and cake enveloped her senses, awakening almost a little girl part of her.

Her father and aunt had always given her a chocolate cake for her birthday as a child, always amused by the enthusiasm she had for the sweet, a slice a day until it was all gone. She thought of the very one she was consuming now, trying to assimilate a murderer with a baker. These little men were becoming more and more a mystery to her. She was constantly shifting from horror to curiosity, the two sometimes melding into one another.

“What do you call them, other than puppets?”

The room was large enough to swallow her voice had she not been only a few seats down from her “host.” She noticed he was watching her over the rim of his glass as he drank, unsure of what was going through his mind, the action elegant and alarming at the same time.

“Officially, Black Mages.”

“Where did you find them?” She took another bite, thinking on whether they were bound to him by spells or if they were naturally in a disposition to be nothing more than servants, wondering about how a species as powerful as them were subdued and under control by one man.

When her ears were met with silence, she paused in her meal, looking to the sorcerer. He watched her for a moment before asking her a question of his own, rather than providing her with an answer.

“What were you so invested in within the library today?”

Her hand almost went to the books on the table and even though she didn’t move, his eyes locked on to the tomes he was referring to. By his gesture alone, she could see he already knew what she had been looking at, most likely happening on the open pages as she slept.

Even though he wouldn’t answer her own query, there was no question that she was to answer his if she knew what was good for her.

“What are you planning?” His voice was a warning and it struck her with confusion before she realized his meaning, a laugh escaping her lips before she could stop it to her embarrassment, the first time she had ever made such a noise since her kidnapping.

“Never worry sir, I wouldn’t _dream_ of turning you into anything as such,” she said in all seriousness, meeting his eyes a few feet away.

She wondered at what he had looked like when he thought she was trying to transform him into a nasty little insect to be squashed beneath her feet? It was so far-fetched but she understood that was probably his only conclusion as he could never possibly guess that she had turned her own husband into an oglop. Nor would she tell him.

“Then clarify.” A quiet command.

“I cannot perform incendiary nor electric spells like your so-called “puppets” can so I thought to further what abilities I can master in order to protect myself lest I run into any other of your unsavory “creations” , as much as I endeavor to avoid such surprises in the future.”

The lie fell off her lips smoothly, punctuated by a sip of her wine, turning her focus back to her cake.

He watched her for several minutes before he returned to his own drink, his gaze heavy and weighing before the two eventually finished in silence.

He left the table before her, his manners missing, seeming preoccupied, and leaving quietly. She made her way back to the library, making a mental note to not leave out any further evidence that might let on as to what she had done to her husband. She didn’t know who Kuja was or where he was from but the many things he was capable of led her to understand that any weakness given to him would be taken advantage of. And for what purpose, she knew not.

Several floors beneath her feet were breathing nightmares, apparently created by the man alone. There were a small group of men wandering about under his command that had killed her trained guard in rapid succession within mere minutes. And from the way he spoke, ate, carried himself, and the very place he resided he, she could only assume he was wealthy. For what purpose would any man need all of these things at their disposal?

She had to put the thoughts away before the worry and panic creep upon her once more. No, a man like Kuja should never find out what her husband had become.

It was later in the evening that her ears recognized the sounds of a piano forte, pausing in her reading as she turned her head in the direction the notes were coming from, her interest pricked. Putting away her materials, she made her way to the music, quite sure as to whom was producing it but unsure if she would be welcomed to spy.

The room was one of the smaller ones within the palace, darker in hues of blues and purples, plants littered about here and there, a few chairs tucked about the instrument. She paused in the open doorway, noting the sounds as dark, striking, and heavy, his fingers rapid over the keys, creating a somewhat melancholy mood. He wasn’t skilled in the way of performing in any grand halls within Lindblum proper, but the notes he created was satisfactory enough to entertain oneself. When finished, his fingers flicked in the air to gesture her inside, not bothering to turn around.

She felt a slight spell of irritation at the fact that he knew she was there but followed none the less, stopping at the corner of the large instrument, looking down at him.

“Do you play, Lady Hilda?” There was a small smile at his lips but it didn’t reach his eyes.

There was that expression again, that look of preoccupation. Recognizing it throughout her years as a politician, she concluded soundly that he was scheming, plotting something. As to what, she wouldn’t even fathom to begin to understand. And she had a feeling that it didn’t even have anything to do with her, his disinterest in her evident. Despite her trespass though, he had still invited her for conversation.

“No, I am afraid I have not mastered any instrument.”

He gestured for her to sit on the bench next to him and she did, staying to the farthest end to prevent brushing against him.

“Then do you sing?”

“Not in tune, at least, sir.”

His smile quirked a little at a corner then, musing aloud,” Perhaps I should have you sing regardless, if only for a laugh.”

At the immediate blush and horror on her face, he did laugh, a small chuckle shaking within his chest. He sighed then, stroking the keys on the piano without playing any of them.

“So, you don’t play, nor do you sing. I am to assume you also don’t bother with needlework nor cooking, “he looked at her then, teasing her,” Not much of a wife, are you, lady?”

She opened her mouth to respond but he cut her off, striking one of the keys, “Let me guess, you are an accomplished politician and devoted partner to industrial endeavors?”

She merely looked at him him, unsure of what point he was trying to make.

“Do you at least dance?”

She sniffed primly at him then, folding her arms across her chest,”Of course I do!”

She knew she shouldn’t allow herself to take exception to his childish bullying but she had such a difficult time handling a personality such as his. She prided herself on reading people, it was her job. But he was unlike anyone she had ever met.

“Then indulge me, “he nodded to the center of the room, turning his attention back to his instrument as he began to play once more. She recognized the tune, a favorite within the Alexandrian court, _Nocturne Lumeer._

The dance usually accompanied to the song started with the female partners dancing first, the men joining in after a certain break in the melody.

Annoyed at having to entertain him like a wind-up doll, she closed her eyes to block him from her vision, half convinced he would start calling out to her from the piano on proper form or any mistakes in the dance sequence he felt she had made to his amusement.

She slid a foot forward and twisted slightly to the right, commanding her feet to mimic the Alexandrian dance steps taught to her when she was twelve.

It had been some time since she had been to Alexandria and her relationship with Queen Brahne had become strained after the King’s death. She remembered when Alexander had first introduced Raza to Cid and herself, Hilda newly sixteen and barely engaged, feeling small in the room with the three other larger adults. Alexander had smiled softly at her, quite pleased with Cid’s fiancé, openly commending him on his choice with a clap on his back, the two men grinning at one another like boys. Despite having no blood relation, they referred to one another as “brother”, their relationship a product in the closeness in which they were raised, many a story between the two about young adventures of the troublesome sort. It had been Cid’s father and his armada that had not only put an end to the wars between Alexandria and Lindblum but had prompted a truce between the two, the fruits of the deceased man’s efforts evident before them.

King Alexander Til Alexandros introduced his companion as his new wife, newly eloped, and not having made it quite back to Alexandria yet. Hilda had been shocked, curious as to how his government officials would take the news of his hasty nuptials without their approval but despite the circumstances, she couldn’t help but like the exuberant woman presented to them. Raza was King Alexander’s second wife, his first having died a decade prior within three years of their marriage, not able to overcome the disease that plagued her body. Tall with wide shoulders, she was more handsome than pretty, but her smile was absolutely warm and heartfelt, unknowingly able to influence those around her by her cheerful demeanor. Alexander had looked to his bride with pride and an outwardly shining love that he felt didn’t need to be masked, creating a positive response from his people when news of their new queen began to spread.

Raza wasn’t clever and seemed very absentminded but she had always been very loyal and almost overpoweringly loving. She had accepted the name “Brahne” under Alexander’s administrator’s advice, her new title ranking her as the sixteenth queen of Alexandria. Over the years, she began to gain weight when some very skilled Qu chef’s were introduced to her court, and not once did Alexander’s love waiver. He could never deny her anything, so happy was he in his life with his partner. Even when she had been horribly duped by one of her more malicious ladies in waiting, as she was always too trusting, he still was open with his affections, the woman in question punished severely, albeit by a tribunal as the King’s wrath and fury was too great, that his council had intervened. Looking to turn the King’s eye away from his wife, the woman had been steadily poisoning Raza’s sleeping tonics with Dragon Grass over the course of six months, the nasty herbs’ side effects causing the Queen’s skin to turn an irreversible blue hue much to Raza’s humiliation.

After Alexander’s passing, Brahne had fallen into a deep grief that even her daughter could not pull her from. She wondered how Raza fared as she had heard that the Queen often held elaborate galas and invited many theatre troupes to perform at the palace, her gluttony increasing alarmingly. She thought perhaps she should have made the effort into reaching out more rather than immerse herself in her self-assigned duties to her country.

So lost within her thoughts was she that she had not realized when the music had stopped, a swift intake of breath as she felt a hand slip around her hip, another grasping her hand, joining her in the dance. He spun her smoothly at where the overture would have taken place, facing him, her feet almost tripping to keep up to the silent dance, her partner cool and unaffected as he flawlessly stepped in time, bringing her body against his hip as he lifted her slightly against him in a turn, her arm curling around his neck for leverage, fingers brushing against soft silver locks before he dropped her back down before grasping her hands once more, finishing the sequence beautifully.

They looked to one another in the soundless room for a moment before Kuja lifted his hand in front of her face, tracing a finger along her jaw line, causing her body to still.

“You are not quite recovered. Perhaps you should rest?” His inclined his head to the side slightly with his suggestion.

She didn’t disagree as she was feeling quite dizzy. She excused herself and headed for her rooms, unsure of what to make of the little play that had happened only moments before. The relationship between captor and captive was becoming quite strange and she was unsure of how to act.

She was fast to change and faster into her bed, looking to her ceiling as she pulled her blankets almost to her chin, trying to make sense of the madness that was upon her. Of all the trials and campaigns she had overcome in her career, not one could gain her any insight on how to handle her current predicament.

_Cid, what am I to do?_

Would she ever be able to return home? Thinking to the silvery man’s sadistic smiles, malicious teasing, and deadly warnings, she didn’t see how that was fathomable. She was no better than the silent men that milled about doing his bidding in this faraway palace. Less than them! For how much longer and in what ways would she continue to be an amusement for him before he grew bored and tossed her asunder, like the soldiers that had sworn to protect her? Or feed her to creatures that resided within the bowels of his home?

Kuja seemed the sort to enjoy amusements of a varied nature but could grow bored of them very quickly, she deduced. He seemed to be more than just cultured and educated; she could see he was intelligent, much more so than her to be capable of the things she had witnessed and experienced so far.

And something troubling whispered to her that she had seen nothing yet.

 

**_A/N_ ** _: What is Kuja preoccupied with? World domination, what else! Onwards to fix chapter 5. Thanks again for reading!_


	5. Chapter 5

Author’s Notes: I apologize for the long wait, I have some outside issue’s crop up that have nothing to do with me but required me to take care of none the less. Not going to get into that. I hope this chapter can meet your expectations and I hope you enjoy it even just a little. Thank you!

Leaning languidly against the balcony outside of one of Queen Brahne’s private rooms, Kuja rested his cheek against the crook of his arm, looking to the city below as the Alexandrian breeze ruffled his hair. The fabric of his sleeves brushed against his lips as he tried to bury his head further against his crossed arms to abate the headache pulsing at his temples. His audiences with the Queen were no longer filled with cajoling and sickeningly sweet empathy but now obedient reassurances and pacifying compliments.   
The former was no better than the latter; both enough to make him hurl. 

No longer was she wallowing in her grief but now how the audacity to command him to expedite his production of black mages and mistadons, sneering down at him as if he was nothing more than a commoner. His fist clenched at the memory of it.   
How much longer would he be in the service of others, smiling, placid, until he swore he felt his face begin to crack?

Many images of her demise had coursed through his mind over the last few months and despite not having worked out just how he would dispose of her in the future, he always saw her engulfed in a cloud of scorching flames.

His head rose once more at a peel of laughter down below, his curiosity caught by the familiarity of it. Peering down, his chin still resting on his arms, he could see the princess talking animatedly with her tutor, the hulking feathered creature looking just as ridiculous as he ever did. He was at a distance where he could hear nothing of the conversation and he doubted he would be interested to, although he observed none the less.

The girl truly was a thing of beauty, her hair a dark obsidian that absorbed everything and gave nothing, the same likeness as her eyes. Had he been closer, he would have heard the tell-tale rumbling of the eidolons within her, sometimes their whispers so loud he swore he could feel their vibration within the marble beneath his feet. He found it curious that no one other than himself seemed to be aware of them. 

Watching her, admiring her, he found it ironic that a being of such dark attributes was a vessel of such innocence whereas he himself was so fair and yet admittedly a rather devious villain. A stray thought, something perverse, danced across his mind momentarily and he almost grinned with it. 

He wondered as to the similarities between the former princess and the one below him now. Did they truly resemble each other enough for one to take the place of another without anyone batting a lash? And if so, Garnet’s mother must have been devastatingly beautiful, the girl a product of King Alexander and one of his mistresses after his first wife’s passing and before the marriage of his second, Brahne. He was the very definition of the rule to not be mistaken by appearances and yet he still could not fathom the appeal the elephant lady had held for the King. 

Bastard must have gone blind.

Lost in his musing, he never heard his “guest” until they were upon him. 

“Don’t you have your claws sunk into enough birds?”

Beatrix.

She wasn’t looking at him but down below, her eye also following the princess along with his. He stood then, a quick grin on his face as he greeted the general, sweeping into a low bow before resting a hand on a hip. 

She looked at him then, her brow furrowed, “I had hoped I might have surprised you.”

His grin grew at that, drawing a small sigh of disappointment from her. 

She had in fact, several times, but he would never let her know of it. She was one of three that had the capability to sneak upon him unawares, the others being his creator and his would-be “sister”, the dull little drone that she was. 

Despite the small amount of amusement he had gleaned from her expression, the broad smile on his face was making his head pulse even worse. As much as he enjoyed their verbal sparring matches, he wasn’t in the mood. 

“Sometimes I forget how tall you are. “

“Whatever do you mean,” his grin fading, perplexed at her comment. 

“Hmm…hunched over like that, you look somewhat like a child. “ 

It sounded like something King had said to him once. 

She leaned into him, her face suddenly a mere two inches from his and this time he could not mask his surprise at her sudden invasion of his space.

” The freckles on your nose don’t help either, although I doubt you ever let anyone close enough to notice them. “

She stood back, her expression giving away nothing as he tried to ease his features back into something more like himself. Damn her. 

“Our spy has returned back from Lindblum.” 

“Oh?” He crossed him arms over his chest, the migraine beginning to take its toll, “And what of it?”

“It’s just as you said, the Regent has been absent for some time. It is reported that he is ill, but of what ailment, no one can clarify.” Her eye narrowed at him then, “How did you know?”

“Mere speculation on some gossip I’ve been hearing as of late. Naturally I wanted this matter investigated in order to better inform our Queen.” He shrugged casually with it to emphasize the seeming unimportance of his query.

Her gloved hands found her way to her hips and she half turned, looking back out at the city beyond, “No one can get past the Minister. Even the Chief Advisor is not receiving anyone. For a minute there it made me wonder if she had finally done him in.”

“She?” He knew who she was speaking of, but didn’t let on, enticed but what she might have meant. 

“Lady Hilda,” she glanced at him sidelong before returning to the view of the capital, “Everyone knows what a notorious rake the Regent is. Cid has been caught in as many skirts as he has fingers.”

Schooling his features to boredom, his mind was racing. 

How interesting.

When he had first embarked on the HildaGuard, there had been Lindblum Fleet Guard aboard. Had Hilda been on the run for a murder or injury, she would not be surrounded by soldiers there for her protection and guidance. He thought back to the books she had been perusing when last he had been in the Kiera desert. Perhaps not maimed or killed…but incapacitated? 

Transformed. 

If Hilda had done what he was beginning to suspect, that made Lindblum all the more vulnerable. He needed to excuse himself from Beatrix in order to ponder this new prospect properly. He needed to go to his room and lie down first. 

Another peal of laughter and the two of them turned again to the source of the sound, the princess below filled with mirth, her hand grasped onto the arm of Dr. Tot. He turned to Beatrix, watching her as she watched Garnet, eye zeroed in, focused. 

Returning the favor, he leaned in close, his lips almost brushing her ear as he whispered, “I imagine the Queen wouldn’t even as much as sniff at you if you took the girl for your own.” 

She never even flinched. Turning to the pale man above her, her expression still gave away nothing, “If I had wanted her, she would have already been mine.”

A genuine smile of pleasure curled about his lips despite himself, a small chuckle shaking his shoulders, “I really do like you General.”

She closed her eye as she flipped her hair from her shoulder, unimpressed, making her way back to the suite and the door, “I hardly believe anything that comes out of that mouth of yours.”

As she should. She had observed his many facades and fake civilities these past several months, noting he was nothing better than a slippery snake with a silver tongue, sweet poison all but dripping from his concealed fangs as he won over every member of nobility within her Queen’s court. Every spy she had sent to monitor his movements within his first few weeks in the palace had been sniffed out immediately, messages relayed back to her in a condescending and humiliating manner that had hit hard at her pride.

All she could do was watch and wait and protect. 

“But this time I truly mean it,” he smiled at her, nothing neither fake nor sweet about it, a hard glint to his eyes. 

She left, sensing his humor twisting as it did from time to time, now wanting to get involved. 

He heard the heavy door shut within the suite beyond and couldn’t help but sigh in relief. 

His hand found his way to his eyes and he all but gritted his teeth. He wanted to pen a missive to make his excuses for the evening but the elephant lady had already made her displeasure known that his black mage army would not be ready for another two months. He would have to rest and medicate for the next two hours in order to alleviate the pain behind his eyes before tonight. 

He had almost thought himself past these episodes, but once in awhile he was reminded that some alien aspects about his person just did not go away with time. The atmosphere around Terra acted as a barrier for the light source that illuminated the neighboring planets, the muted light of Terra and the blue pools of Bran Bal had caused him to develop photophobia in his earlier years, the bright sun of Gaia dazzling and impressive to his younger self when he first stepped onto the planet, awe struck and slightly fearful of its illuminative prowess only to cry out in agony after a few short hours in its presence. The migraines he suffered in his first few months were so debilitating that it was all he could do but to curl in on himself and muffle his cries. He became accustomed to the stars foreign strength over time, exposing himself to its elements more and more until his sensitivity to its light became almost nonexistent. 

Leaving the balcony and room as well, he made his way to his current chambers within the Alexandrian palace, closing the door and making his way to the side of the bed as he went. Disengaging the buckles of his mantle before shrugging out of it resulted in a dull thud in the quiet room as it slid from his shoulders and onto the floor, his fingers quick in removing himself of his vestiges and boots before he moved to close the curtains at the window, making the room as dark as he could. He slid naked on top of the covers in the large canopied bed, his arms under the pillows as he attempted to grind the thing into his eyes, the pain steady and thrumming. His tail was limp next to his leg as he willed himself to relax his breathing, years of practice dictating that sleep was always the best curative for these spells. 

Sighing into his pillow, he pushed away thoughts of politics, eidolons, freedom, and most definitely nosy little women who had no idea just how much trouble they were in.   
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-  
She threw her hand over her mouth and willed herself to not hurl the contents of her stomach to the floor as her body lurched from one place to the next in the span of a second. 

She had to take several deep breaths to calm the sudden onset of nausea that had come about. Once the feeling fled, she straightened herself up to stare at the open cavern beyond, the glowing sigil beneath her feet dimming slightly. Her captor had gone amiss two weeks prior and the itch within her mind had escalated as the days numbered, her curiosity eating away at her boredom. 

She thought to when she had first arrived, merely getting a small glimpse of the desert beyond, wondering what the Outer Continent truly looked like. She could hear the howl of the wind as it whipped about the cavern, kicking up her skirts, the air hot and dry. The ship was missing, giving her a wide view of the landscape beyond. Walking forward, the sound grew louder until it was the only thing she could hear. 

She had spent weeks attempting to open the many windows on the upper level floors but most were not made to be open and those that could would not budge, the sand and grit of the desert air wearing away at the hinges outside making them immobile. 

She stopped a dozen feet or so away from the edge, opting to sit and take in the view lest the wind take hold of her and throw her asunder like a doll. She looked to the many dunes in the distance, watching the endless rolls, marveling at the random geysers of sand that shot through the air every now and then, the wind too loud to hint at what could be the cause. 

Taking it all in for several moments, she was unsure of how much time had passed, merely that her throat had become unbearable dry and parched, licking her lips that were beginning to chap. She took it as a sign it was time to leave when the cavern began to dim, standing, bushing at her skirts before realizing the futility of the action as they had become filthy and heavy with sand. Slapping her hands together, she turned back to the depths of the darkening cavern and to the sigil.

She paused when she noticed two glowing orbs in the recesses of the darkness staring at her.

She could see the little man below, silently watching her, and like a thunderclap, panic raced in her chest. He blinked once, twice, and made for the sigil, quickly. In fear, she began to think of what she was to do lest he report to his master what he had witnessed. She had yet to ever hear a voice emitted from any of the mages that worked diligently about the palace but she had witnessed from afar as they communicated to their creator, a conversation always too far away for her to hear but being spoken none the less. Before she could make a move however, she could hear the loud rumble of an airship engine in the distance. Afraid, she turned back to the opening of the cavern to see the HildaGarde in the distance. It was still a long way away but with her speed, it would be here momentarily. 

She bolted. 

Racing after the little man that had left before her, she made her way to the sigil, the glowing device teleporting her faster than a thought and into the palace. 

To a hall that she had never been before…

It was dark, damp, and the air was stale. She began gingerly walking, her fingers trailing along a wall to steady herself as she could hardly see, the sound of scuffling above her head alarming. Reaching the end, there was an open archway with stairs. Climbing them slowly, light began to filter through the mass and as she reached the apex, she stepped into another hall. One she was familiar with. Dull light illuminated the closed chambers with their strange symbols and knob-less doors, her mind connecting the scuffling noises to the monsters housed within the rooms of the floor. She now knew where she was, surmising that she had somehow teleported into what she thought must be the basement, working her way out of the horror she was currently in now. She tried to swallow her fright, knowing it would take her almost a half hour just to return to the main entrance hall much less her own rooms on the upper levels. 

Confused as to what had went wrong with the sigil, she quickly began making her way toward the stairs, wondering how much time had already passed, calculating that the airship had surely landed. She tripped twice in her haste to make her way up the submerged fortress, her anxiety growing at the time that began to eat away from her. She almost cried out in relief when she made it up the main entrance and began taking the grand staircase up toward the guest chambers. Several flights higher and her breath began to ease out in calmness, her panic dying down, so very close was she to her own room. 

And then her heart dropped at the click of metal boots behind her, causing her to pick up her skirts, quickening her pace as the dreadful sound got closer, louder, almost deafening to her racing heart. 

He wanted her to hear him. 

All but scrambling up the spiral glass corridor, she could see her door, tears almost reaching her eyes, fear mounting within her. He was becoming so very close, she was sure he was mere feet behind her. 

Damn this climate. 

Her dress was so very telling of where she had been. He had been absent for weeks, but of course her damning luck would beckon him home once she decided to go astray. 

His voice did wonders for frightening her to death. 

“Lady Hilda. I have just been informed you had made an attempt at escape.” 

She could hear the deadly threat in his voice. 

She didn’t slow her pace as she threw her head over her shoulder, her words all but biting in turn. 

“Your doll is a liar!”

Merely a glimpse, but the look on his face was so very dreadfully beautiful while promising something final and unpleasant. She almost cried out as her hand reached the latch of her room, disengaging the lock and almost falling in, knowing it was pointless to close the door behind her, the man reaching the appendage within mere seconds. Moving to her armoire, her hand reached a double pronged hairpin, clasping it desperately in her hand before turning to face him, watching as he quietly closed the door, as if his full interest was tagged onto the motion alone. 

She heard the click of it close and watched as he slowly turned his head toward her, making it obvious she was the center of his undesired attention, his steps quiet and soft once more as he came closer. 

“I’m curious as to how your masochistic tendencies align with the success of your career?” 

“I’m not a glutton for punishment. I was not escaping. You yourself dictated that I could peruse this facility to my own discretion!”

It took everything she had not to stutter, her fright almost turning her into a caged little bird, fearful to have its wings plucked. She wanted to hurt him for turning her into this wretched, pathetic thing. Never had she been so scared of anyone, her fate mandated by his leave!

Nothing of which she had parted to him registered on his features and his arm darted out like a serpent for her. Her own arm moved faster than she could think it, thrusting forward, her hairpin sinking hard into his exposed abdomen. Surprised by her own actions, she looked up to his much taller stature, her mouth agape at the open shock on his face. After several blinks, something which was akin to fury began knitting his fine brows. Wrenching the pin from him, she watched in horror as blood all but flowed from the wound, his hand shakily covering the injury as he reached for her again, grasping her arm with trembling, hard fingers, biting into her flesh. 

“U-Use a cure. Now!” she all but commanded, her voice not her own. 

The hand that grasped her no longer shook, his nails digging into her painfully. 

“No.” His eyes were pinning her in place. “You will mend this.”

Confusion spun her mind in a torrent,” I am not a doctor, can you not see you are bleeding?! Heal yourself!” She would become hysterical if he did not come to his own senses! 

“No.” 

He pulled her against him then, bending her arm backwards so hard she thought it had surely broke, crying out at the pain racing up her shoulder, “You will fix this,” he bit out, “Now hurry!” 

He shoved her away from himself with a rough jerk, almost giving her whiplash, looking down at the mess she had made of him, assessing the damage done. Her hands flew over the items on her armoire, grasping a piece of cloth desperately as she watched him sit on the edge of her bed, fast on her feet as she moved his hand from the wound, pressing the cloth firmly against him. Grabbing his hand once more, she silently willed him to hold the cloth in place while she moved to pour water from her pitcher into the basin from a little table on the side of her bed, adding handkerchiefs to the bowl, and then searching for needle and thread. 

Using his other hand, he had already removed his garments and amour from his chest, discarding clothing to the floor. Shakily, she climbed alongside him, grabbing pillows to shove behind him as he eased backwards delicately. Exchanging his cloth for a wet clean one, she began wiping away the red obstruction in order to work. She whispered Slow into the air, the blood loss halting. She bent her needle with a thought, her voice trembling as she added a binding spell to her flimsy thread, watching as the material thickened and stiffened. 

She pierced his flesh, almost jumping at his hiss, the act making her cringe. He was so very pale, likening his skin to moonlight. 

“If this is meant to teach me a lesson when you could have already been on the mend, I do not understand,” she was weaving in and out of flesh with the same precision she mended her own clothing, the skin puckered and red. She met his eyes and paled at the deadly quality to them, the henna at his eyes suddenly looking crimson in the dimming room. 

“What would a flawed creature like you know?” She stilled, something in the inflection in his voice giving her pause. It was the closest she had ever heard him come to a yell, his voice deepening with what sounded like raw emotion. 

“Whatever does that mean?” 

She blinked several times, not understanding. After several minutes of reflection on what his meaning could possibly elude to, she could only conclude one.

“Surely this is not related to your vanity?” That would be madness.

He didn’t reply, trying to still her trembling hands to finish the job, the situation spiraling into something she could not keep up with. One finished, slipping further into a confused state, she began removing his boots and the rest of his garments, her normal propriety far from her thoughts, thinking she needed to get him to lie in the bed. 

Removing the last of his clothing, she gasped. 

He merely blinked lazily at her, an arm propped on a pillow, naked and unabashed, watching her silently. A silver tail lifted next to his leg before falling back to the bed, the very same color of his hair and lashes. 

“…You’re not human.”

“No, that I am not.”

She looked at him but his face gave away nothing. Never had she met another individual that resembled a human such as him and not yet be one. 

“What are you?”

“A creature made for perfection.” To anyone else it would have sounded vain or melodramatic. But the serious set of his jaw and the way he watched her let her know it was anything but. 

He snaked his fingers around her wrist and brought her face an inch from his, the breath from his words against her lips making her shiver. 

“And if I do not heal without a scar, I’ll make sure to give you one you will never forget.”  
-_-_-_-_-_-_-

She closed the door quietly behind her save for the click of the latch, peering into the darkened room to ensure her guest remained sleeping. Once her eyes adjusted and she verified he indeed was, she moved to the small table next to the bed and placed the tray she had been carrying upon it, a small spread of light fare and herbal tea sitting atop. He had chosen to remain in her room, a decision that her left her worriedly wondering where to sleep herself, outright refusing the idea of prompting him to share the bed and too distraught to sleep elsewhere, fearful of his wound becoming infected lest she not keep a vigil over it. 

She had opted to rest in a chair next to the bedside overnight, an awful ache biting into her neck and shoulders at the wake of morning. He had remained asleep the entire day due to the sleeping aid she had placed within his tea, deeming rest the best curative, his injury not remotely life threatening but still enough to keep her afraid and wondering her fate lest is not heal in the manner in which he had dictated.

It was nighttime again, a full day now past since her little trick with the hairpin. The room was dark save for the dull light from the lantern on her armoire, casting light across a tiny portion of the bed, her captor’s profile seeming soft and delicate as his exposed chest rose and fell, his breathing the only sound in the room. It had been evident that the man had absolutely no body shyness as he had remained naked during the course of his stay. Only when he had fallen asleep from the tonic she had administered to him was she able to cover him with a blanket, trying to keep her features stoic and almost nurse-like, but her mind had reminded her that she has never been so close to another man undressed as he except her husband. 

Gingerly setting herself down on the edge of the bed, she watched the man as he slept, his hair seeming lavender in the pale light and curling beneath his cheeks. She looked to the feathers at his crown, marveling at their structure as she never had before, leaning forward slightly to get a proper look. She had always assumed them to be a play at fashion but the closer she looked and knowing what she now knew, she could clearly see how the silver of his hair began to merge at the base into the plumage that stood aloft, fine things that ruffled easily in a breeze. Indeed, he was not human. 

Point of fact, the more she studied him, the more obvious it became. His whole anatomy just seemed wrong. There was no doubt he was male, he had seen to show her of that. However, in as just as many places as he was solid and hard, there were just as many that were soft with curves, delicate structured planes that morphed into defined sinews of muscle. It almost seemed an amalgamation of genders while also having two distinct features that were un-humanlike in nature.   
She marveled once more how she had never seen someone resemble a human almost entirely so and not be one. 

No. That wasn’t right. 

She remembered a dirty and shining little boy years ago when she was twenty, maybe twenty-one, crashing into her on the streets of the city proper, overly polite and apologetic for the accident, his smile large and as bright as his golden hair. His clothes were two sizes too large, worn and ragged, and bobbing behind him was a tail just as spectacular in coloring as the hair atop his head. More than the tail however, it was his eyes that had given her pause, such gorgeous sapphire depths the likes which she had never seen. Taking his apology without a thought, she has sent him on his way, the boy dashing off faster than lightning. It was only moments after he disappeared that she realized her reticule had gone missing. It didn’t take long for her guard to find him by her description, presenting the little thief with her bag, the coins long gone and a sheepish yet charismatic smile still on the child’s face. He had been sent to her father’s garden for a week, pulling weeds and replanting the gaurdia lilies as punishment. 

“I’m unsure on how hard he’s taking the lesson, Hilda, the boy is clearly enjoying himself,” her father had told her, a little wonder in his voice as he watched the boy happily work through his task. 

It had been pure coincidence that she would see him again years later, one of Baku’s boys, laughing and smiling with one of his comrades, the set of his shoulders and the casual way he rested his gloved hand on his hip read of a sure individual brimming with confidence and mischief. The sight had made her smile. There was something about the tailed-boy that projected unto others whatever it was that was overflowing from within him, the very brilliance of it reflecting in his eyes. 

But that boy did not have feathers such as this one did. Perhaps the two were still related by the same species? She would be lying to herself if she denied that she wanted to touch them. Yet her fear allayed her, unsure of what he might do if he woke. She could surmise that he could tease her for unwittingly being attracted to his person as well as she could deduce that he could command her not to touch him so familiarly, his gaze scathing. 

He was unpredictable, exasperating, and unfathomable. 

She had let her curiosity rule her too much in her recent circumstances, much to her shame. With finality, she decided she would not allow herself to do so anymore. 

Stilling her willfulness to touch the striking feature within his hair, she pulled his covers down to his hips, her fingers pressing slightly on the pale skin around the puncture wounds. She questioned her sight as she peered between the threading, unsure at the trickery before her. Gone was the swelling and redness there just hours ago, in its place smooth flesh. She would need to get her little scissors to snip at the thread to confirm if he was indeed healed, but this was unheard of without a spell. 

Plucking scissors from a drawer, she scooted back to the sleeping man, turning so that the light of the lantern fell on the threading in order to better see. Snipping and pulling the material away, she let out the breath she had been holding, the only thing marking his skin were the small holes from where the thread had been. Those were paltry and would be gone quickly enough, but how was there no trace of the injury she had inflicted upon him?

“Is it healed?” 

His voiced was thick and laced with sleep and when she pulled her eyes from his abdomen to, she could see he was still very tired.

“Yes. And unnaturally quickly, might I add.” No longer touching him, she sat up, feeling slightly haggard. Nothing made sense anymore. 

“It’s how I’m made.” It almost came out as a mumble as he moved to stretch out his spine, something feline-like in the motion before he settled back into the pillows, leaning into them.

“Made? And what exactly are you? Or are you refusing to tell me that too?”

“You wouldn’t know even if I did tell you.”

“Then if it would give away nothing, why bother concealing it?”

He studied her a moment, his knee coming up, the covers slipping from the limb, his left arm stretched out to the side on the pillows. After moments of weighing, he spoke again. 

“I’m…a genome.”

“Genome,” she repeated the word aloud, but more to herself in an attempt to understand it. “Do all…genomes…have tails?”

His head inclined slightly back while tilting to the side and he continued to study her, “Yes.”

“What about the feathers?” Her hand motioned to the crown of her head. 

“…No. Only…only I have those.” She mistook his halting reply to mean his throat was parched, or so he assumed, as she moved to the tray next to the bed, pouring a strong-smelling tea into a cup and handing it to him. Instead of resuming her perch on the bed, she deigned to sit in the chair next to him. 

The flaw in his genetic make-up was his own, the feathers a mistake only given to the prototype. 

“Are these for me?” He pointed at the tray, grabbing a sliver of cheese at her nod, chewing thoughtfully at the information he had just given her. She was right of course, he had given away nothing. He shouldn’t feel ill at ease. However, what she said next made his heart almost stop. 

“I see. The other genome I met only had the tail. With blond hair and blue eyes….very much like your own, now that I see the connection. I-“

She paused at the undisguised expression of surprise on his face, his eyes wide, almost not even looking at her, it seemed. She was taken aback, unaccustomed to him giving away any feeling of his own that he was not in control of. 

“Where did you see him?”

Ah. 

She had never mentioned it was a him. 

Her inquisitive nature was what fueled the success of her career all these years but it was only with Kuja that it garnered her more trouble than not. It was because her analytical skills were useless with it came to this man, an accomplished actor who gave nothing with an impenetrable mask and who held her in his own turf, away from her spy’s, her acquaintances, and her most trusted and valuable minister. Had he been within her domain, there would not have been a move he could have made without her being aware of it. Everything around her within this fortress was alien, even the very nature of the person that called himself her captor. She would not give away something so easily, no matter how fearful she was of him. 

“Treno, “the lie was said with practice smoothness. “It was only in passing. Like yourself, I had thought it peculiar someone could look so human and only retain a slight feature that was not.” 

Staring at her, weighing her answer, he dismissed her from her own room and she was all the gladder to do so. His answer about the tails was enough to lead on there were several of his kind in existence however the fact that she had come in contact with one had alarmed him. Were they not from the Mist continent? And if so, where could they have possibly thrived? And why was it so distressing to him that a “genome” like him was spotted while he himself travelled to wherever his heart desired? The little fragments of things she learned seemed to boggle her more and more as she collected them.   
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
It was after midnight and she was feeling fresh after her bath, her hair still wet as she made her way back to her room after having borrowed a tub from a seemingly empty room. Her room still remained dark, only lit by the small little lantern at her armoire, her guest in a robe but still there. He had moved to the small table in the center of the room, finishing the food from the tray she had brought earlier. Closing the door behind her, she wondered how much longer he intended to stay, now that he was healed. He didn’t even bother looking up from his meal as he flicked his fingers in the air, gesturing for her to take the seat across from him. 

She did as he bid, feeling strange sitting so close to him, the table in her room so much smaller and intimate compared to the one in the dining hall. He was making quick work of the snack, the only remnants being a few crackers and a slice of hard meat. That was gone too within minutes, eating quickly and neatly, wiping his mouth with the folded cloth on the tray before looking at her, his eyes stopping momentarily to her wet hair. 

She wanted to grasp it out of self-conscience habit, her lack of propriety becoming clearer with each passing day. No one within her home would ever see her in such a state of undress except for her husband and a few select servants. Looking to the sorcerer across from her, her face began to burn at the realization that now the both of them had seen each other with nothing concealing themselves. How was she ever going to describe these indecent events to Cid if she ever saw him again? Her thoughts were becoming darker the longer the silence stretched and it took her several moments to realize a tea cup was being held up to her in offering. Blinking, she took it from his handa, her fingers grazing against the coolness of his own before encircling the painted porcelain and bringing it to her lips. 

She sipped at the steamed laudenberry, the sweetness welcoming, and the liquid warming her from the inside. Before she knew it, she had finished the cup, setting it down in mild embarrassment. Kuja was observing her, a small smile at the corner of his mouth at her blush, amused. 

“Another?”

“No thank you,” she whispered, turning to look in every direction but his. The table was much too small. If only he leaned forward would his head be nothing but a few inches from her own. She hoped he intended to leave soon. 

“Lady Hilda?”

“Hmm?” 

At his silence, she realized he was waiting for her to look at him. Wanting to sigh but never daring to do so, she turned to meet his gaze. His smile remained in place, although now he had sat back in his chair, casual, relaxed. 

“Did you turn Cid into an oglop?”

Her heart stopped, their gazes locked onto another, his smile one of genuine pleasure. 

“W-what…?” It came out breathy and whisper like and she hadn’t meant it to. She was suddenly feeling dizzy. 

She blinked, trying to clear her head but something wasn’t right. The more she tried to focus, the more distorted everything became. Her fluttering heart was calming, slowing down, muscles suddenly not abiding by her will. She looked to him in confusion, not sure what was happening. 

“They say poison is a woman’s weapon of choice.”

Dawning horror caused her to turn her sluggish head toward her empty tea cup and then back to the man across from her. 

His smile was wicked, carnivorous. 

“I say they have the right idea.”

Her vision swirled and she slid from her chair, everything becoming a pitch black nothingness. 

A/N: Sooooo, I was going to stop with the revision’s here but chapters 6 and 7 are crap too, so I’ll be rewriting those entirely as well. *setsfiretoeverything*


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I apologize, this chapter got dark real fast. Despite the disturbing things written in here, I hope you still enjoy. Thank you!

There was a sour taste upon her tongue as she stirred; her eyelids heavy, her body stiff. Streams of thought began to gather and collect as her consciousness returned. A wave of nausea roiled through her stomach and her eyes snapped open as she clamped her jaw down, gritting her teeth to abate the urge to hurl. Her eye’s watered at the intense onset of light that met her, forcing her to close them once more as she turned her head away from the offender. 

“Careful…” The warning was low, amused. 

She slowly opened her eyes again to see a set of vicious spikes mere centimeters from her nose, an insect-like swarm of dread humming within her abdomen. Cautiously, she made to rise. And alarm soon replaced her dread. 

Jerking her arms and legs up in protest resulted in the bite of metal against flesh and she turned her head back up. Restrained in a manner that did not allow her to peer down to what was binding her body, she looked up, and into a large laurel-designed circular mirror with a dark menacing bat atop mounted on the wall behind her head, titled at an angle that allowed her to see herself bound with metal structures on a rack. Surrounding her head was a horrific arch of spikes, so close that wisps of her hair was spread in-between them. In the mirror, she could see the culprit from which she had initially been blinded, three stone structures with open burning flames blazed around the head of the rack, creating an eerie glow about the room. Through the mirror, she could see a cage large enough to house a human on the floor, a smaller, suspended one by its side, shackles hanging ominously behind the two. 

There was a chest beside two large ornate jars and just within her vision was the edge of a standing candelabra, lit and flickering. Taking her eyes off the mirror and gingerly turning her head to the side, she could see a small alcove within a larger alcove in the room, a strange mechanism with an hour glass inside, the sand a deep crimson. And to her other side was a small intricately designed table with a whip, shears, and various other instruments. She willed herself to not shudder. 

“You haven’t been in this room. “His observation was confirmation enough, he needed no answer from her. 

Even though she couldn’t see him, his voice was close enough to signal at his nearness. 

A second wave of nausea hit her and she clenched her teeth against the tide, the after effects of whatever it was he had put in her tea racking her insides. 

“A sleeping spell would have worked just as well,” she spat weakly. 

“I was angry.”

She thought to the tools to her right. And then he was above her, a slight grin at the corner of his mouth.

“I think I’ve calmed down now.” 

His hand settled around one of the spikes at the side of her face, grasping it firmly before releasing it, trailing his fingers along the edge of the table, as if in whimsy. 

“I like to think myself a gentleman.” 

He moved toward her head where she couldn’t see him. She felt a small tug on her scalp, and in confusion, she looked to the mirror against the wall to see just his hand and wrist extended in the glass, his fingers twirling a strand of her gold hair. 

“I think it’s time we re-affirm our relationship. Are you frightened, Hilda?”

She said nothing, could say nothing, her body and mind waring with the illness that was trying to consume her and the fear that was creeping along her nerves. 

His hand moved closer to her scalp, petting. 

“I think that you are. Which would be beneficial for the two of us. Fear is a warning concerning self-perseveration and I believe it would be nothing short of kind of me to avail myself to you in order to instruct you on its merits.”

Disentangling his fingers from her hair, he appeared in her sights again, next to the small table. He was in a robe with large sleeves with a blush of dusk at the edges. Fingers peeped from the sleeve and wrapped around the shears at the table, plucking them in decisiveness before leaving again, moving toward her feet. 

She was finding it hard to breath all of a sudden, her head jerking up as she looked to the mirror behind her. When he came into view, she watched as he paused by her legs, grabbing hold of the hem of her dress. Without hesitation, he began to snip at the fabric, cleanly and quickly making his way to her abdomen. 

“Wh-What are you doing?” She couldn’t hide the panic that had creeped into her voice. 

The slicing sound of the fabric became louder, closer, the weight of the metal grazing against her chemise. 

“Do you have secrets, Hilda? I imagine you do. I have secrets too. I’m beginning to understand that some of my ire is stemmed from the fact that while you do not relinquish your own, you continue to sniff out mine.”

The sound of the shears continued until they reached the top of her bodice and with one clean ‘snip’, the fabric slid to the side, revealing her corset and under garments. 

“Strange that you’re dressed in so many layers so late at night…” He mused aloud. 

She had redressed fully after her bath, unknowing if he had intended to remain in her room again now that he was healed. She began to shiver, unsure of what was happening. 

And to her dismay, she felt the tool slipping between her chemise and corset, the slicing sound resuming in the almost quiet room save for the crackling of the fire. It took only a handful of seconds before the garment was sliced open and he made for the bottom of her last garment. 

“What are you doing?” She repeated, her voice taking on an edge of anxiety mixed with fright. She pulled against her restraints but was met with nothing but resistance. 

He seemed focused on his task but his hands became slower, the slice of the blades coming down almost to a halt when next he spoke. 

“During my first years here, I experimented with creating new species. Some were the result of cross-breeding, others from genetic manipulation, until I resolved to using mist…”

Mist?

“What you met in the lower levels is part of the end results. Although their differences came about the methods in which I created them, some were born with siblings.”

She didn’t know what he was on about, concerned about her inevitable nakedness and the other tools sitting on the little table. 

“One such creation bore three. Two males and a female. Large, disgusting things with protruding jaws that had ironically grown rows are sharp jagged teeth on the outside, one of my many early failures. Anyhow, they grew at a rapid rate, reaching maturity within a weeks’ time. I wondered then if they would perhaps be of any use, if they would expire just as quickly as they had been born. I was essentially working with unknown materials, completely in the dark, so I had no basis of comparison when I began this task.”

He continued to use his tool, her legs now exposed. She was unclear of the meaning to his twisted tale but she would not dare to not heed his words. Since he began telling it, not once did he smile nor part with his normal jovial mockery. This was meant to be listened to and she made to hear every word. 

“Peculiarly, one of the males seemed to have a voracious and violent sexual appetite and when next I checked on them, I discovered he had ravished the sister to death. Although it was curious, it didn’t lend to my needs and I left the remaining two males alone, thinking any harm that was to be done was done. To my amazement, he attacked his brother in the same manner he had his sister and before I could separate them, the brother had met the same fate as his sister. Stranger yet, even though he had been the ruining of his siblings, he still cries at night, an awful wretched sound. I think maybe he is lonely. Craving for a physical kind of comfort he doesn’t understand but his instincts will him to execute in the only manner he can.”

His work was now such that she no longer had to watch the mirror to see what he was doing, her chemise now open to expose her stomach, the scissors paused in his hand, resting in between the underside of her breasts, standing over her, his hair falling on either side of his face. 

“I think perhaps you might be so kind as to keep him company.”

His eyes lifted from her stomach to her own, the serious blue of them like a guillotine falling upon her. She swallowed convulsively, shaking her head to the side, abating tears of fright that were pulling at the corners of her eyes. 

No! Never not! Never ever, please!

The reality of what he was doing was swallowing her, forcing her into a terror she had never known. His actions now made sense, he was preparing her body for this dreadful thing of which he had described to her. 

“No? Then whatever shall we do? Surely you have a solution or two to run by me?”

To her shame she began to break down. 

“I’m sorry! Truly! I was frightened, I never wanted to harm-“ 

“Ah!” He cut her off, “No need for lies, Hilda, they make your apology insincere. You and I are both very much in agreement that if doing me an injury would gain you any kind of advantage, you wouldn’t hesitate. You’re a villain, the same as me, don’t ever try to delude yourself that the ends justify the means, when at then end of it all you’re a schemer and a cutthroat that does what is necessary to get the job done.”

The damning truth to the meaning of his words unsealed the tears she had been holding back, two streams flowing on the sides of her face as she unflinchingly kept his gaze. 

Something in his eyes shifted, lightened, and his hand rose up to caress her hair once more. 

“I do believe this is the most beautiful I have ever seen you,” bending down, he plucked a lock of her growing hair, wrapping it around his index finger, watching the light set the gold ablaze. “I admit, I have a distaste for blondes. It’s a flooded genetic trait where I come from,” he remarked, his voice sounding bitter. “But I can’t help but take exception to you just this moment.” 

He turned his gaze back to her, the shears forgotten as his other hand came to her face, a thumb wiping at the stream still falling along her cheeks. 

“I would bet a fortune that the Regent has never seen you like this.” His voice came out as a whisper, soft, lover-like. “Perhaps your restraint is what makes him seek the comfort of others.”

His words, no matter the cadence, pierced her chest like a dagger. Something must have flashed across her face as his eyes widened, some of his twisted humor returning. 

“Oh? Did I strike a nerve? Surely we’ve reached a stage where I no longer offend your sensibilities?” He stood straight, his robe shifting with the movement, back to business. 

“I believe our current issues lie with the fact that you’re are used to being the queen of your own castle, as it were. One such as yourself is unaccustomed to not being in a charge. I imagine most, if not all, outcomes are a result to your designs where you are from. Your lifestyle has created habits of which you know not how to brake, ones in which you attempt to manipulate an environment to the best of your advantage and take chances in order to garner favor to those ends.” 

Everything stilled when he spoke next. 

“So, let me be clear. In this fortress, in my domain, you are no one. Here there is no merit in belonging to the house of Fabool. The machinations of Lindblum hold no bearing in the working of this palace, and I have no need for a Chief Advisor.”

He turned back to the little table and began stroking one of the other instruments, something cruel and violent looking, something of which she had no name for. 

“So if you desire me to be the gentleman that I endeavor to be…” he turned back to her pointedly,” you will desist in every and all labors that displease me. Are we in agreement?”

She nodded violently, so much so that she thought her neck would snap. 

He turned back to the rack, disengaging the binds on her limbs, taking her hand to lift her into a sitting position and to the edge of the table. 

Her bare legs hung over the edge and she sat before him with her hand still in his own, exposed, humiliated, and frightened to her wits end, her head bowed. 

He had told her before he had yet to find a purpose for her. And he had. She had all but confirmed her husband’s current status and with her in his residence, their government was also missing their Chief Advisor, weakening the state dramatically. At the moment, Lindblum would be no match from an attack with the princess’ eidolons. 

Despite the fires in the rooms, a shiver shook through her every so often, her hair covering her eyes. He observed her intently in the quiet room, his interest piqued. He was still learning about the ruling parties of Lindblum, having thought his previous knowledge being adequate enough to suit his needs but finding these new characters to be more and more interesting the more he learned of them. He would not have had the quick success he had with Brahne had he opted for Hilda and her minister. And something told him that despite the Regent’s degenerated mishap, the man was not to be underestimated in the slightest. 

Lindblum’s Chief Advisor sat before him now, shamed and scared out of her mind. Normally such a triumph would make him ecstatic with pleasure. But something similar to pity curled at the corner of his mind and he wondered at it. Perhaps it was because of the various similarities he seemed to be finding within the woman before him he recognized within himself. Perhaps it was despite the trouble she seemed to cause; he couldn’t help but respect her. 

Despite this newfound emotion, he didn’t comfort her, nor lend her any garments to cover herself. He merely ordered her to her room, a walk of shame of sorts, and to remain confined until he was to call for her. 

She left quietly, never turning his way, almost naked and unsteady on her feet. He doubted the fight had left her completely when she was over her shock; yet he felt confident that she would be much more complacent in the days going forward. However many he allowed her to have, that is.   
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-  
Regent Cid Fabool concentrated on his reflection in the mirror, working to tie his cape into a simple bow, his arms growing tired with the effort. After an arduous effort and a few more tries, he smiled at himself in the looking glass in success. Turning to his chief engineer Erin, he asked, “How do I look?”

“…You look awful, sir. “ She replied helplessly, sympathy undisguised within her voice. 

“Yes, you do indeed look awful. “ Looking to Artania in anger, Cid’s frustration grew at the bored expression plastered on the man’s face. 

Looking to the mirror once more, he assessed that an oglop by nature was ugly. An oglop in a cape was just silly and even a little sad. Shaking his head, he hopped away from his reflection and toward a seat. Once he arrived, he mentally growled at the fact that his engineer had equipped the chair with a make-shift booster seat. He didn’t thank her. 

At first he had been outraged by Hilda’s heinous act. Not only had she taken his most prized and newly developed ship, but she had left him in the form of an oglop with no hint at a cure. After a few days, his anger had cooled to regret. Yet as the weeks began to pass, his regret had swiftly turned to worry. Not only was he enslaved within this body, but his wife was missing. No sign of either Hilda or the ship named after her had been sighted across the continent according to his informants. And now as the weeks began to number, he was beginning to fear the worst. Although this “tantrum” was out of the norm for her character, Hilda took her role within the Lindblum government very seriously. He felt sure she would have returned by now. 

Rumours were flying across Lindblum and Alexandria about the Regents reclusive state and his absent Advisor. Her council was amiss within the Lindblum city and there was even talk among the townspeople within the capital. 

In the beginning he had cursed her name every chance he was reminded his capacities yet now he silently whispered her name in the dark, praying for her safety and her return. And it was his fault. And those closest to the two of them knew it. 

His youthful foolishness had caused Hilda to become cold and judgemental with time. Once he had a young and mischievous girl of a wife who was quick with a witty joke. Now he had a calculative and clever woman who could see through him with eyes like daggers cutting through cold water. Hilda was still ever beautiful but her smiles were for public sake and rarely held for him. 

At sixteen, they had held something akin to wonder and absolute love, something which made Cid feel very needed. He gave a sad half-smile at the thought. He felt like he could do anything at the time. For anyone to place so much feeling for him made him feel very suited to being Regent and to being a good husband. 

However his thoughtlessness at his flirting and his youthful fondness of the drink got the better of him. A face that once held so much respect soon turned to disappointment. He grew angry. Angry at the sadness and the broken expectations that showed so clearly in her eyes that he felt betrayed. Betrayed that she had taken something so wonderful away from him. That she no longer loved him. And so his actions were no longer mistakes but intended affairs. After every one, after every woman he soon despaired, disappointed in not finding the ardour and feelings he once saw within his wife. He even used them at times to maliciously hurt his wife in retaliation for what she took from him. 

It wasn’t until recently that he come to regret his actions, their intended purpose not extracting the results in which he had meant. She was never at fault as he had selfishly accused. And even more so, his newly found discovery only added to his guilt. Assessing over the last years of their marriage, he understood that he had never truly lost his wife’s love. In the way she had kept to his bedside on his ill days or the manner in which she would scroll small notes upon his airship blueprints and templates to remind him of scheduled meetings or duties. Or how she would place her hand upon his head and look into his eyes with worry when he would contract a headache. No, even if her affection was absent, her love was still there. It was merely buried within years of hurt and a bruised heart. 

And he was sorry. 

So very sorry. 

“Sir? Minister Artania is speaking to you."

He shook himself from his heavy thoughts and turned to his minister. “You were saying?”

Artania was looking at him intently, a serious expression etched delicately upon his aging face, “All inquiries for an Alexandrian visit have been denied and the Queen not only refuses our own invitation but had demanded limited access to the Princess. I assume all our letters to Princess Garnet have also been intercepted.” 

Cid mulled over this, his confusion over the Queens sudden desired isolation growing. Much like his worry over his wife, he was beginning to fear for his niece. After the death of the King, the distressed queen had begun to act irregularly. He wondered not only what was happening inside the palace walls but also the implications that the Queen’s actions might have on the Princess. 

“Schedule a meeting with Baku of Tantalas. If necessary, we might need to take more effective measures in the near future. “

“He’s going to laugh at you, sir,” Erin despaired.

He was slightly aware that a twitch was occurring near his right eye. Glaring at his engineer he had an uncontrollable urge to un-gentlemanly flog her, even in his limited capacities. He even momentarily weighed the merits versus the means, coming to the conclusion that as an oglop, he was horribly incapable of taking on such a feat. 

“Thank you ever so much for pointing that out, Erin.“

“You’re welcome, sir. “  
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
It took her a day to come of out her state of shock, her fear subsiding slightly long enough for her to think of other things besides it. Reassessing her situation would do no good. Taking chances of any sort were a poor decision. The days of using her curiosity to bid her time and what she had ill-perceived as a measure of freedom were gone. She was a prisoner to something that she could not measure, manipulate, nor deceive and she had neither allies nor means of calling out for help. How was she to stay sane in such a place as this? 

To what ends did letting her live even benefit him? Did the purpose of terrifying her so equate to a single airship? None of it added up. There had to be more to it. But she was too afraid to question him.

And somehow he had discovered Cid’s wretched fate. How? Surely Cid had not revealed as much to the public. And why had he not found someone to cure him by now? This led her to worry that as the caster, perhaps she was the only one who could undo what she had wrought. Such knowledge in the hands of a man such as Kuja could bring nothing but disaster. 

In the afternoon, a mage came with a note in his hands, written instructions of a summons. Bathing, dressing, and assembling her hair in an understated style, she followed the little silent man to a chamber she had never been before. Opening the door for her, he did not follow, closing it once she passed the threshold. The room was large, circular, it’s decor in very much the same taste as the rest of the palace, stone and marble in silver, gold, and hues of various deep purples. Plants littered the room by the dozen, large, green fronded things, spindly and lush. The was a wooden case the size of a wardrobe with glass panes, filled with books, more books piled and open on small rounded tables. Jars and containers of various sizes stood aloft on chests, larger ones on the floor, more furniture and bookcases tucked away in the recesses of the room where the light barely touched. Strangely though, in the centre of the room was a raised metal cage-like structure. Moving to peer inside of it, she was waylaid by a command from an adjoining room.

“In here...”

She realized this was Kuja’s private rooms and moved forward to what must be his bedroom. He sat at a desk littered with papers, fastidiously writing something on one of them as she entered, gazing at his chambers. The bed was much more large and sumptuous than her own, shear tapestries almost closed on all sides but still revealing their contents. More plants, cascading things, dripping with ivy and sharp looking flower-like leaves in hues she had never seen, bottles of unknown liquids piled on a stone casing within a wall, an empty fireplace opposite the bed. Rather than a wardrobe like her own, she could see an open alcove into a small, darker room, the light of candles flickering enough to show hints of fabric in the shadows, revealing a dressing room. Before her eyes could wander further, his fingers flicked in the air, signalling for her to sit at the seat opposite him. She obeyed, silently sitting, smoothing her dress in her lap before folding her hands, waiting for him to finish. She could not decipher the language in which he was writing in, the figures resembling something more mathematical that literal. Even so, she observed, his penmanship was the worst. 

It was several minutes before he finished whatever task he was labouring under, setting quill and parchment aside, turning to pluck a book from the corner of his desk, pushing the novel-like thing in front of her, leaning back with his arms crossed, nodding toward her to accept his offering. Looking at the book, back to him, and the book once more, her hands raised from her lap and fingers curled at the edges before smoothing over the top and lifting the covers from its pages, yellow and aging but still legible. 

She read aloud the words scrawled boldly on the first page what she assumed was the title. 

“Condie Petie?” 

Nodding, he gestured to the book in her hands, “You’ll find it’s a small town within this continent, occupied by sentient creatures. There’s not much to glean from the words written in that book but I thought it might take your interest.”

Confused and cautious, she slowly asked him why. 

“How so?”

“You are to accompany me to this town. I have need of more research this place bars the way to my destination.”

Leave the palace? Her?

“Why am I being allowed to come?” 

At that his lips lifted. “You’ll read as much in that little book there. Condie Petie comes by outsiders few and far between. According to the information written, only married persons are allowed passage within the town.”

Her brows drew close to one another in thought, staring at the book as she turned the pages, not liking the direction of this conversation. 

“...I am to play your wife?” 

Her voice was quiet, subdued, her body language somewhat submissive, he noted. She was still afraid, despite the refined posture of her spine and the softness within the air about her. His lesson had been harsh but necessary. Hilda had needed to be educated on just how much danger she was in. And what a mistake it would be to make an enemy out of him. 

“A ceremony needs to be witnessed.”

She stilled, her gaze locked in front of her but seeing nothing. Her blood ran cold. Lifting her eyes to him, the unspoken fact that she was already married lingered in the air.

“Your marriage to the Regent will not be recognized there. Their laws are such that marriageable partners must either marry or reaffirm their marriage through their customs within their domain.”

Even so, even in another place far removed from her home, she would be his wife in some fashion, bound to him a manner that unsettled her greatly. 

Looking to her lap, she knew she had no choice. 

“When do we leave?”

“In two weeks time.”

She nodded, accepting her fate for what it was. He was in need of a biddable servant and to save herself from an awful demise he would not hesitate to deliver, she readily agreed. If her marriage to Cid was not recognized in this continent, then her marriage to Kuja would not be recognized in her own she decided, if she ever had the fortune to return home. With each passing hour, she was beginning to doubt the likelihood of that outcome. 

“Is there anything else you require of me?”

He shook his head, the silver of his hair catching the light. 

Rising from the chair, she left, relieved by the reprieve but anxious at the future that awaited her in fourteen days. And darkly she couldn’t help but reflect on the irony that the wedding night would be just as cold and empty as her one to Cid.   
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-  
Her gown was spidery lace against her small frame, an ivory butterfly, her hair brushed with almond spice and corded with spun moonstar thread. She had embroidered her veil herself, toiling away for seven consecutive days, a labor of love. She could feel the heat on her neck as she entered the Grand Hall, appreciative gazes and complimenting gasps being thrown in her direction, all eyes on her. She wasn’t shy by nature yet she was not accustomed to having so much attention on her so. And despite the positive nature of everyone’s interest, there was only one to which she wished would look upon her so favorably.

Clasping her hands around the stems of her flowers perhaps too hard, the music forgotten, she almost paused in her walk at the man waiting on the steps in front of her, the morning sunlight streaming through the glass, bright and almost blinding, but not so much so that she could clearly see the swell of pride in his chest and the amazement on his face as he looked to his intended, love and affection displayed openly, making him so heartbreakingly handsome, she wondered if it was all a dream. 

She ascended the steps ahead, he taking her hands within his own, the differences in their heights great. Vows were spoken with meaning, her heart full with love and loyalty. His eyes, that rare cinnamon that made her heart skip, was gazing warmly at her and she marveled at how such a circumstance had come about. Officially, she was made his wife, her title as Chief Advisor would come within a month’s time. 

Through the festivities of the reception, she was almost dizzy, cordially greeting all of the state nobility in her new position as the Regent’s wife as well as being swept in hugs and lavished with well wishing kisses and hands clasping her own from family, friends, and previous student’s she had studied with in the university. Hours passed in this manner, her husband having gone amiss, a warning from her father that he believed the Regent was enjoying himself a little too much by way of drink. 

At twilight, she was whisked away; the party still loud and lively, ushered to her rooms and prepared for her first night alone with her husband. Young and nervous, she waited alone in Cid’s chambers; the room dark, save for the crackling fireplace, her gown sheer and revealing in a manner that added to her trepidation. 

Would he like it? Would it make him…want her?

She could feel her cheeks burn. The minutes grew. Grew so much into they fell into an hour. And another. Followed by another. 

Utter humiliation befell the newly made Lady Fabool when her husband was found the morning after suffering from a debilitating hangover and in the room of another woman.   
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-  
She finished the small book in half a day’s time, the information within the pages vague and repetitive, the town mostly an unknown, containing a populace of dwarves with strict laws concerning passage in the ways of a marriage ceremony, their rituals and ways of life centering on worship from a great tree that was apparently nearby. 

Her captor’s attitude returned to his accustomed “gentlemanly” attributes, their evening meals shared, their conversations based on politics, past scandals among mutually known nobility, and god-awful plays that he seemed to adore. She could perceive how one could be swept off their feet by him, his quick wit and ability to always be ready with a joke refreshing, his physical features stunning and almost otherworldly, could make one feel part of a special sect if allowed within his inner circle. She recognized these qualities for what they were. He was a manipulator, a schemer, a perfect actor. He could be anything one would wish him to be. An object to be desired, and ally of exceptionally skilled means, a strategist with all the best cards at his disposal. 

From his stories, he was acquainted with the best houses within Alexandria and she had long deduced that he maintained a vast amount of wealth. She was beginning to discover more of the power that hummed within his aura, no longer finding the need to mask it from her, the hairs on the back of her neck standing tall at the sheer weight of it. Someone like this did not make merry in polite society and go about their life in pursuit of their own affairs, unobtrusive to those around them. 

They tricked, invaded, and conquered. 

Who exactly was this “genome” named Kuja? Where was he from? And what did he have in store for her?

 

A/N: I cut this chapter short because this seemed like a good stopping place however now chapter seven is probably going to be overly long since I have so much to fill in before moving on to eight. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N** : _I was hoping to get this out much faster than I have, so I apologize. Thank you for reading and thank you to Era of Apollo for your kind words, I really do appreciate you for taking the time to read this!!_

 

It was early morning, the sunlight bouncing off the tops of the dried grass, warm save for the refreshing breeze that passed through her hair, cooling the back of her neck as she sat with her legs stretched out before her, her hands in her lap, hunched over slightly, forgetting decorum within this small sanctum of reprieve. The field seemed to stretch on forever, tall and golden, swallowed in the distance by the rising sun. A weight shifted and resettled against her back, making her hunch forward a little further, not uncomfortably so. She smiled as she felt the back of their held head settle against her own, relaxing her body in turn.

“Sometimes I still cannot believe the trouble I have gotten myself into.”

There was no response, only the feel of their breathing, a comfort in itself.

“I’m unsure of what I’ve stumbled upon but I don’t believe I’ll ever see you again.”

“Is this your analysis or are you feeling sorry for yourself?”

There was no need to lie, not to him; he would recognize it for what it was in an instant.

“Both.” She sighed, long and exhausted.

“Not everything can be anticipated. You’re in an environment in which you are rendered powerless. Sometimes the only thing you can do is bid your time and do whatever is necessary to survive.”

“That seems remarkably cowardly…”

“I disagree. Sometimes people become comfortable when they believe they’ve already won. It is then, in their perceived triumph, that they relinquish their weaknesses.”

His advice was sound, inspiring. She was beginning to feel a small granule of hope, the more she mulled it over. Her back was warming with his body heat and she did not wish to leave it.

“Why is it your heart seeks my council rather than your husbands?”

Her breath came out as a shudder, the weight of her response heavy,” I fear I have no space within his own heart. I cannot help but wonder if my absence affords him the life he wishes he could lead.”

It sounded so pitiable, even to her own ears but it was honest and if there was anyone should could ever divulge every thought and feeling to, it would be him.

“Take heart, my girl. He might surprise you yet,” her father murmured, his voice and form fading.

She awoke then, tears streaming from her eyes.

It was night.

It was quiet.

But she felt a little less helpless and warmed inside by the small sense of comfort the dream had evoked.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

There was a dull roar that resounded in the background, its echo’s hours old as more than half the night had passed, and the desert rains were heavy against the buried fortress. She now sat on a cold stone step upon the grand staircase in front of the main hall in the dark, a small blanket wrapped around her shoulders, the words from the phantom within her dream resembling her father circling listlessly about her mind.

Her bare feet welcomed the coolness from the stone beneath them, soothing, as thunder rumbled above, long and low before it dissipated and the song of the storm drummed on. Relaxing into the lull of the night, movement within her peripheral vision caught her attention and she angled her head in order to see the lord of the residence with his hand on the edge of the balcony above and aloft, his other hand at his temple.

She went unnoticed as he walked along the hall in the dark, stopping to a wall to press his head against it, causing her to tilt her head in curiosity. For a moment, it almost looked as if he was trying to grind his skull into the structure. Straining to crane her neck to keep him in her view began to inflame the muscles in her back so she called out to him.

“Are you alright? “She asked, not with any concern in her voice.

He did not jump but the way his body stilled concealed that he had been unaware he had not been alone. Turning to her, an eyebrow raised in question, whether at her posture, her state of undress, the late hour, or possibly all three, she did not know.

“Are you unwell?”

“N-…Yes…, “his words were halting and spoken from restrained pain.

She was a little taken aback he had even admitted as much. He walked to the edge of the balcony, peering down at her, “What are you doing?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she answered plainly.

“Hnn…”

He walked along the balustrade until he reached the opening to the wide stone stairs, peering down at her momentarily before his features shifted, as if coming to a decision, and began making his way down them until he reached her. He settled on the cold floor of the step next to her, a space of a foot between them, the storm above becoming monotonous. With his elbows on his thighs, he rested his head within his hands.

“You have a headache, “she observed quietly, “and pain relievers do not help.”

He lifted his head in surprise before he winced once more.

“My father is the same, “she explained, years of experience dictating she keep her voice low,” His reading and research strains his eyes.”

“And what does your dear father to do alleviate his malady?”

“Ah…” Hilda considered, looking about her person before settling on her idea. Gesturing to her lap, she scooted further from him, “Rest your head here.”

“Whatever for?”

“My aunt always administered a massage for my father. It circulates blood flow and relaxes the tension within the muscles.”

“Would this not be better done in a bedroom?”

Which was the very reason she had come to this solution, not wanting to be alone within him in her chambers ever again.

“I do not intend to labor over you for hours, this will be but a quick thing,” She pointed back to her lap, waiting.

With a little hesitation, he eased himself down, turning and laying her head per her demand, his fingers slipping over one another as he rested his hands below his chest. With all her garments missing but her nightgown, he could feel the heat of her thighs through the thin material.

“You really are rather small.”

She clicked her tongue in reproach, shifting the blanket on her shoulders so that it wouldn’t slip.

“And this is damned uncomfortable.” The contrast of her body heat to the cold of the stone step beneath his back was not a compliment to contrast.

She momentarily toyed with the thought of using his posture of imbalance to fling him down below, but perished it quickly enough lest a smile overcome her face. She blew into her hands to warm them before touching the sulking man, his hair cascading about them both, soft and light despite the breadths of it.

She was just about to bring her fingertips to his temples before he spoke again.

“It benefits you none to do this.”

He would think that way. It was in his nature to be so suspicious, she was learning.

“As it benefits me none if anything severe would to happen to your person. I cannot navigate myself off this continent as much as I wish it. If I am to be returned home, it would be due to your generosity or that I am found. So, for now, please hush and simply be grateful, lest I change my mind.”

She placed the tips of her fingers to his flesh and deftly began massaging, easing and coaxing his features into one devoid of pain, his shoulders suddenly relaxing as he gave under her ministrations. After several minutes, she changed her focus and slipped her fingers within his hair, massaging the scalp, eliciting a sigh from him as she did so.

She almost paused at the sound, looking back to his face to realize his eyes had become closed, her face warming slightly at the wonder at how easily he could charm someone. His breathing evened out and the lines from his forehead and beneath his eyes smoothed away, the delicately drawn henna on his lids fully visible, even in the dark.

Her fingers worked beneath his hair, the silver wisps slipping over her knuckles as she worked into his scalp, making sure not to entangle herself within it.

“Is it helping any?”

“Immensely,” he sounded grateful for once.

“Did your mother never do this for you?”

His body stilled and she silently cursed herself. It was increasingly difficult to steer their conversations to “safe” ground as she never knew what was considered “prying” and what he was more than happy to converse about.

“I do not have a mother.”

The words were cryptic but it didn’t matter. Even when he was speaking jovially, that aura of hate was always lurking beneath the surface, quick to lash out whenever given the chance, whether by his control or not, she was unsure. He didn’t give her a chance to change the subject or appeal further before he decided to poke into her wounds.

“Do you do this for your husband?”

 “Yes, on some occasions, I have.”

“Do you miss him?”

“…I do.”

“Do you believe he misses you?”

“I- “

The contents of her dream resurfaced.

_Sometimes people become comfortable when they believe they’ve already won. It is then, in their perceived triumph, that they relinquish their weaknesses._

“I fear that perhaps my absence has given him something he has longed for,” she said quietly.

She felt claws clutching into her heart to say it and her pride shook to reveal to this man her inner feelings but dream or no dream, she believed her father’s words were sound advice.

His body relaxed once more and her feelings turned from hurt to interest.

She could hear the mean grin in his voice.

“Whatever would you do if you’re right? I imagine your nasty little trick would have him reconsider chasing after you.”

His eyes opened then, looking up at her, “You’re a clever woman, and prettier than most. Why is it that you cannot keep his interest?”

How easy it would be to move backwards to watch his pretty skull crack into the stone beneath them.

“From what I’ve heard, all his escapades are all with your run of the mill common girls. Plain little Mary’s that cannot be discerned from the next, not like you, Hilda.”

She removed her hands from his head, unsure of how to respond to his malicious teasing.

“Or is it that you cannot execute a proper seduction?”

“My favors are not so cheap like those-“

“Not at all, “he cut her off, his hand quick in the air to grasp one of her own, bringing it down to the side of his face as he watched her,” I’m confident that if you exerted only a little effort, you would have him enslaved.”

Her anger paused, his words piquing her interest.

“How so?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“Have him do _this_ for you, “he gestured up at her, “a massage. Just as we are now. Place him in a position where his movements are limited by your commands.”

“Am I to bat my lashes and giggle?”

“You’re a serious woman, Hilda. Be serious.”

And then the grin was replaced with intent as his eyes locked onto hers, turning his face to her hand, his tongue flicking out across the pulse in her wrist, the action making her jump in surprise, but he held on to her hand firmly.

Smoothly, he brought a fingertip to his lips, licking before bringing it to his mouth, his teeth latching onto the small thing, sinking into the flesh softly but deep.

She shivered.

All at once, he released her and rose, his hand falling on her shoulder as he bent down, looking into her bewildered face, “And he would be but all yours to control within your bed. Take that lesson as payment for your remedy. “

Leaving her swiftly, he was gone but in a moment. She reflected upon his demonstration, unable to move quite yet.

She imagined Cid’s eyes clouded with lust, begging her, craving her, asking for permission…

Her cheeks flushed and she stood, turning to make her way to her own chambers, admonishing herself all while indulging in the fantasies the mage had encouraged her to evoke.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

With a flourish of the quill, he signed his name upon three separate sheets of paper, the only thing beautiful about his handwriting. It was the very first word he had ever learned to write and in his younger years, he had painstakingly poured as much effort into this one task as he had with his secondary level spells at the time, recognition of his identity, imprinting a part of himself in the small way that an adolescent could.

Handwriting and the skills of penmanship had not been amongst the lessons given to him by his master, all resources of data were input and received through holographic projectors, monitors, and digital keys, only the occasional printed books housed reverently here and there, echoes of a time long gone. Upon Gaia there were more Terran books than Garland owned, housed within the ghosts of leftover structures hidden among the other continents from the previously failed assimilation. It had been on Gaia where he had learned to “write” and relay information accordingly.

Amongst the letters were instructions for his plant in Dali, another checking in with King and the review of his accounts, and the last for Beatrix to expect his return in two weeks time. Sealing all three letters, he signaled to his puppet to hand the missives off to a moogle.

He wondered at the world wide stretch of Mognet and how yet the populace of the Mist Continent had allowed themselves to be so ignorant of the majority of the world they resided in. Despite the lack of sentient creatures among the rest of the lands, there were still so many wonders and secrets hidden within its geography that had they been properly explored and analyzed, Gaia would have had a fighting chance against Garland’s machinations. There were clues aplenty hidden among the planet, had they been more aggressive, the Iifa tree would have been snuffed out long ago, dissipating the Mist and its influence upon the people within it and the Guardians silenced, the passage to Terra blocked and barred from inciting destruction once more.

Despite the content of his letters, moogles were by far the best couriers, not only for their speed and efficient system, but they were secretive creatures by nature. Despite their guilty pleasure of gossiping, they were steadfast about the protection of their messages in general. The scarecrow like thing left, leaving the genome alone to his thoughts.

He reflected on his early days in Gaia, his many observations and self-coaching in the way of imitation and mimicry, the effort he expended in removing his accent from his words and adapting to another one altogether, choosing one spoken among the privileged set, as if he too was born amongst them, a cultured thing. Men and women alike had called him “pretty” and in no time, he was being invited into their homes, a special guest that amused with simple displayed spells within a parlor, a well read gentlemen that could enliven a room of scholars, and a courtesan within several exclusive beds that garnered him information by the tons. It was through such networking that he had met King and the two of them would conspire amongst the lot of them.

His master may disapprove of his methods, even deeming them illogical, but he doubted any of his creations could accomplish what he himself had done. And it was only the beginning. He wouldn’t have to always be like this, in the service of others, always smiling, placating, reliable, and pleasing. In but the upcoming months ahead, he would soon be his own master, a ruler among worlds. He could taste his creator’s demise; liken it to the smog and ash of hellfire. Him along with others. Only those he decided worthy would remain within his new domain.

Sighing into the room, he thought to his current plans, deciding it best to settle down before he got too excited. They would be leaving for Condie Petie in over a week. He thought it might be best to leave the airship out of view from the small town, unsure as to people living within it, whether they could be useful to him later or something he should be weary of. Hilda didn’t cower before him like a frightened thing but it was obvious that she now understood her place, leading him to believe she would give him no troublers upon their excursion. Leaning back into his chair, his head facing the ceiling, he closed his eyes, opting for a short rest before deciding on preparations for the trip.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Readjusting a slipping pin from her hair, Hilda stopped at the strange sight within the main hall, perplexed. Two black mages were peering down at a third that was sitting upon the floor, hunched over with its back turned to her, a jerking movement within its right shoulder, heavy and unsteady.

This was the most interactive she had ever seen them be with one another, their awareness amongst their own only seen in the form of transferring of tasks. Such a simple thing and yet so far removed from their “norm”. Making to move forward, her body halted at the sound that met her ears.

A voice.

She knew they could speak, had seen it albeit never heard it. This relinquished secret was more than she could bear, her feet carrying her toward the one sitting on the floor, boggled by what he could possibly be doing that would take the interest of his brothers and set his mouth in motion.

When she was upon them, the two standing did not even bother to acknowledge her presence, so absorbed were they in the actions of the mage sitting down below, his feet thrown out before him, his focus on the thing within his lap.

Like being doused in ice cold water, she couldn’t stop the shudder that danced upon her spine, her hand flying to her mouth in horror. Letter’s had been tossed asunder on the floor and within the mage’s lap was a convulsing creature, a moogle, crimson blood bubbling from its mouth, gargling incoherently, struggling to relieve itself of its captor. The mage held it by the throat with one thick gloved hand, it’s other crashing down against its skull in a heavy, clumsy “pet”, muttering the same word over and over as it cradled the poor thing in its lap.

“Pretty….”

“Turn it loose!” she cried out, the command loud and horrified,” You’re killing him!”

As if snapping out of the trance they had been in, the other two turned to look at her, but neither made any move to stop their sibling. She lunged for his arm, trying with all her might to stop him from hitting the creature again, “I said let go. Let go _now_!”

With a quick shove, she was sent crashing into the stone beneath her, hitting her head against the cold surface, crying out. The other two men watched in open curiosity at the play of events before them, still and quiet, their eyes wide with wonder.

Quickly making to stand, she turned back to the sitting black mage, moving once more to save the little thing from his grasp, her head pulsing. She whispered _Break_ , the words rushing from her lips, watching thankfully as the short man stilled, and running around his body to pull the creature away from his person. Reaching toward his lap, she suddenly gasped, strong fingers wrapping about her throat, shoving her backwards and onto her backside, her weak spell broken in an instant. Something flickering and dangerous sparked between his fingers were her neck had been but a moment before, pointing toward her, her eyes widening in realization of the spell forming there.

A hand clasped upon the inside of her arm, lifting her from the floor, pulling her behind them in one quick speedy motion, shielding her with their body. Kuja. Her hands unconsciously pulled at the fabric at his back, standing on tip toes to wearily peer over his armored shoulder at the danger before them, clearly shook.

The black mage stood at the new threat before him, the moogle lifeless, its body hanging limply by its neck within it hand. His eyes turned to crescents, menacing, as his spell strengthened in the face of his master. The other mages backed away, still watching but not partaking in the anarchy before them.

“What is _happening_?!” she demanded quietly.

The silver head in front her turned slightly in her direction but said nothing, keeping his eyes on the danger before them.

With a cast the likes she had never seen before, the fire’s intensity grew in seconds, the level something she had only heard as stories of times gone by. With ferocity, it hurled a whirlwind of flames at the two of them, a blazing inferno, so hot even sound could not escape its destructive prowess.

“Stay behind me,” Kuja commanded, his arm thrown out as an impenetrable shield, much like a wall, constructed itself from his fingers, meeting the flames in the nick of time, and the sound of the clash was deafening. Reaching within itself, another spell was quickly being summoned forth by the angry form before them, but her captor never hesitated.

So close together, she could hear the words on his lips, the spell unfamiliar, but the aftermath the stuff of nightmares.

“Flare Star…”

Out of her peripheral vision, she watched as the other two mages fled. She felt a surge of magic the likes of which she had never _heard_ of, the buildup buffering her skirts and it raced around them and accumulated to a choking degree, building and pulling until like fireworks, energy shot off in all directions before succumbing to one another again, orbs of concentrated matter encircling the lone prey, creating a vacuum for the blast. Unable to take her eyes away, she watched as the rage of the spell overtook him, shook him, his body nothing but a ragdoll as the blasts exploded against him again and again, and until there was nothing left but wisps of cloth. Even the moogle’s body had been disintegrated along with its torturer. She gasped when the air returned to the room, everything culminating rapidly and violently. Her head fell forward against the tall man, clenching her eyes shut as she buried her face in his hair, trembling.

_What was that?!_

“Are you alright?”

She nodded jerkily, her eyes still closed, her body like lead. It did not want to move on her command.

“Was he malfunctioning?”

She opened her eyes, lifting herself to look at the back of his head.

“Malfunctioning?! He was a living organism, not a _machine_ , he-“

“What was that thing he was holding?” he cut her off, his voice sounding disinterested but she could hear the undertone of something else lurking beneath his words.

“A m-moogle,” she stuttered, afraid and little girl-like, “He was “petting” it. Or trying to.”

 She could see the discomfort within him in the way he rolled his shoulders, signaling for her to release him. Letting go, she stepped back and her knees buckled. He turned and caught her, his arm around her waist, her hands grasping onto what she could to steady herself. His eyes moved back and forth between hers, her emotions clear on her face, undisguised.

“He’s gone now. What are you so afraid of?”

_You._

She dared not say it aloud. It was the first time she had witnessed a proper display a magic from him since he had healed her on their first encounter. She had long suspected he had been capable of the unimaginable, of being able to produce both white and black magic, a feat not even mentioned in fairytales. But what she had seen here would haunt her in all her days to come, she was certain of it.

What a fool she had been. A terrible, unknowing little fool. She _never_ had a chance of besting a being such as him. What _power_! And Alexander help those who ever dared to come across him.

An acquaintance and guest to all the best houses! And not a one had any _idea_ the supernova that was contained in one beautiful, clever, scarily frightening vessel. How did one come across such strength? And where was the need? What was an armada to a spell the likes of which she had just seen? Her head was spinning.

“Hilda?”

He shook her slightly in question, the strength leaving her in waves.

“I would ask you what is happening but I know you will not answer,” her voice came out weak, “So if I might impose and ask that you help me to my room, I need to lie down.” Never had she asked such a thing of him but she knew she would never make it back on her own and she would not ask the other residences of the palace as the fear she had always had for them had intensified to another magnitude.

Hoisting her up smoothly, he complied silently, slipping another arm under her knees as he climbed the main stairs. He had deposited her gentleman-like into her bed when they reached her room, promising a delivery of refreshments from one of the “servants”. He watched her, the seconds ticking by before he left, his mind becoming obviously occupied with something more important than her wellbeing. She shuddered once the door closed, brining her hands to her eyes, wanting to scream eternally. She couldn’t despair in hopelessness but she swore this place, this man, would swallow her whole.

_Sometimes the only thing you can do is bid your time and do whatever is necessary to survive._

And that was all she could do.

_Survive…_

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

It took her over a day to calm her panic, repeating the content of her dream like a mantra. Spending the day staring at maps of the outer continent, she retired for the evening into one of the sitting rooms. What started out as a game of solitaire turned into a game of whist as her “host” had happened upon her, taking a seat and joining her at her invitation. Entertainment was hard to come by and she was weary of the dark nature of her thoughts in her long hours.

“What is the scope of your relationship with Artania?”

“Could we perhaps make this a little more fair by exchanging answers for questions in turn?” She looked to her cards, appraising them.

“No. But I will reward you with one answer to a question if you can best me at this game.” He took a card from his set and placed it on the table.

“How magnanimous of you. Done, I accept. As for your current question, it’s nothing as exciting or perhaps as perverse as you might wish it to be.”

“Which means?”

“He is my best friend,” she supplied simply, assessing his move.

“And you’ve never thought to-“

“Of course not!” she sniffed primly,” Not all women are like your Treno doxies. Although we’ve clearly exposed my failures within my marriage bed, it does not mean I would turn an eye to another.” Her tone was bitter and annoyed.

“I don’t think that is the issue you have with your husband. Your traits are such that you master anything you are taught skillfully in. Your Artania has taught you much, perhaps there is one more lesson he would have endeavored to teach you had you asked.”

“Are your thoughts naturally perverted or do you just like to make me uncomfortable?”

“Both! And I won’t charge for that answer.” His voice was sing-song, amused.

“And your father and aunt. Are they not together?” His eyebrow rose, pausing in his move,” They sound quite close and given the intimacy in which she is administering massages, it would be a marvel if they are withholding themselves.”

“You really are a lecher for gossip. You’ve clearly enjoyed the talk in too many parties.”

“I won’t deny it.”

She sighed, giving in, trying to not lose the game to his distraction.

“Although I doubt one has ever told the other, they are very much in love with one another. I imagine they abstain from their feelings because my aunt looks so much like my mother that perhaps she wonders who it is my father is looking to whereas my father fears betraying my mother.”

“But it’s not unnatural for a widow to remarry, much less take a lover.”

“Indeed, but my aunt is not just any woman, she’s my father’s wife’s younger sister.”

“Ah!” He nodded his understanding. He thought about it, his fingers resting on his chin,” It could be awfully romantic in a certain setting.”

She laughed at that despite herself,” Yes, I could see how it could.”

“And were they to eventually succumb to their desires, you would not mind?” He looked thoughtful, not teasing, his cards in one hand, his other hand overlapping it as he rested his chin atop them, his elbows at the table.

She watched him, marveling at the strangely relaxed atmosphere that she was unaccustomed to.

“No, not at all. I don’t remember my mother. And my aunt has always been there for my father and I. I simply wish for their mutual happiness should they take that step.”

He sat back, still watching her, the game forgotten for a time.

“I usually find such proclamations repugnant and boring. You can clearly read the superior attitude in those that fake maturity in order to curry favor. But you really mean it.”

“I love them.” She shrugged, not knowing how to be any clearer.

“Indeed…”

It was spoken so plainly, without an ulterior motives or conditions.

“So even though she isn’t your mother, there is still a biological connection that keeps you close.” He murmured thoughtfully, his voice becoming quiet.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Something in the ease in which she said it took him aback. She wasn’t even looking at him but at her cards but her brows was knit into a frown.

“My relationship with my loved ones is simply a result of the environment in which I was raised in. It is through my interactions with them through the years that I have chosen to love them in the manner that I do.”

“Chosen? But you just said you are the product of their cultivation.”

That got her attention. Flicking her eyes up, she noticed she had his full attention, a feat she was sure she had never accomplished before. He was extremely interested in what she had to say.

“The way in which I speak, the foods that I’m accustomed to, and some of the habits that I keep are cultivated through my upbringing, however if I was simply a cut-out of my father’s and aunt’s image, wouldn’t I just be nothing more than a clone? I am myself. An individual. I can just as easily choose whom I love as I can envision their demise. I have cousins aplenty that I often fantasized cutting ties with in the most immature way possible as a child, blood or not. My father and aunt did not pass on my sense of love and loyalty, they earned it.”

His mouth parted slightly and she laid her last card down.

“And the game is mine, sir. My reward?”

He blinked several times, coming out of the trance he was under, looking to the table to see she had indeed bested him. So drawn in by what she was saying he never even noticed her clever work right under his nose.

“Very well. Ask your question.”

“With no consequences?” An eyebrow rose.

He met her eyes and despite the teasing note in her voice, her features were serious. He stared for a few minutes before inclining his head in agreement.

“Are you an orphan?”

His eyes slid closed, unsure of whether to laugh or curse her. He was sure she had thought her question safe enough; merely a yes or no would suffice in any normal case. But for _him_ it brought a tidal wave of information that he did not know how to relay. He was a skilled liar, he was proud of that fact. But she was a politician, cleverer than most, and he wondered if she would detect anything amiss if he tried to conceal the truth with a falsehood. It should matter not either way, but he had played the game as an equal and had intended to reward her properly.

However, once all was said and done, there would be nothing she could do to stop him once everything was set into motion, should he choose to release her. But he always thought it best to keep his cards close to himself, as it were, lest his plans go awry.

He opted for an explanation as close to the truth as he would divulge without giving anything away.

“No, I am not an orphan nor do I have parents.”

She stared back at him, but didn’t press further. He realized he was waiting for it too, his shoulders stiff in anticipation.

“Alright,” she said slowly, nodding, her eye’s roving over him, making him shift uncomfortably.

“What?”

“Hmm…With all the fantastical things I’ve experienced within these two months combined with your flair for the dramatic, I’m half convinced you might just tell me you’re something otherworldly altogether.”

He stilled, knowing she didn’t realize how close to home she had just hit, but surprised none the less.

“Either way, it’s a pity. I was thinking you probably looked like your mother.”

He felt a sudden sharp prick his chest, a feeling he had no name for, making him feel conflicted.

“Any why would you make that assumption?”

She couldn’t help but to roll her eyes,” Come now, don’t make me say it. I am certain you’ve heard it excessively in as many years as you’ve been breathing!”

“What?” he ground out, finding it hard to take control of the twist in the conversation and the strange and uncomfortable way it was making him feel.

“You’re prepossessing. And you know it. You’re not unaccustomed to being the center of an admirer’s gaze.” She looked disgusted to say it, shuffling the cards to set another game.

He blinked, her response not taking the direction he had anticipated.

He laughed, whether genuinely, she was unsure, but his shoulders shook from the exuberance of it. She eyed him wearily; his mood swings a thing of nightmares.

But all seemed alright as he resumed their new game, a small twist at the corner of his lips as they carried on in silence.

After a quarter of an hour passed, shifting cards accordingly, he struck up conversation once more.

“All this talk of mother’s as of late…why have you not had any children yourself?”

There was no barb in his words, merely a query.

She paused briefly in her move before setting a card down, a mixture of guilt and shame creeping upon her,” I do not cycle regularly. My physician advised that I might grow out of the condition but I never have.”

“Truly? Then what does the Regent intend to do about an heir?”

His questions hinted at a fear she had locked within her for several years, something haunting and lurking, always in the back of her mind. She dreaded a day when a discarded mistress set foot within her domain, holding the product of her husband’s betrayal, an offering of a future and hope Hilda had failed to give. She wouldn’t be able to bear it. The violent pain, the utter humiliation, the absolute love that would be in her husbands’ eyes for a child begotten by another. She would never be able to breathe again.

“One will be chosen, inducting them into the family register. Whether they are a child or an adult, we will know only when we decide and when we feel it is right, “she recited the promise made between Cid and herself.

Setting his hand down, the room quiet, he captured her gaze, gesturing to his win,” It is my game this round, Hilda.”

She nodded in agreement, reshuffling in turn.

“Your question, sir?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

A solitary trunk was packed and loaded onto her husband’s airship and her nerves were set ablaze. Her mind battled back and forth between the relief of reprieve from her incarceration to the fear of her upcoming betrayal to her husband. And in full circle, she wondered at the opportunity to travel to a new land she had never even heard of to the worry of what the discovering of the unknown had brought upon her these last few months.

Travelling to this town called Condie Petie, she prayed she would make it back safely.

 

**A/N:** _Now on to tweak chapter eight now and then I can move along with chapter ten. Thank you everyone for putting up with my crazy revision project!_


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Big thanks to Lucrecia LeVrai once again for her beta-ing efforts and her attention to detail to correct my many mistakes.

 

 

The laughter emitting from the floor was loud and boisterous. His left eye was doing that _thing_ again. He could feel it twitching erratically, his teeth beginning to grind against each other of their own volition. He began tapping his small digits on his chair, waiting for the man to be finished.

 

"I told you sir," his chief engineer said quite tragically, trace amounts of sympathy evident in her voice. Again, he felt the uncontrollable urge to harm her.

 

Cid sighed in a dramatic parody of his suffering. It was only in her nature to be blunt. It was actually one of the qualities he had favored most about her, however now it was quickly turning into an undesirable trait. Baku began coughing, the last of his laughter dying out, despite the humor still left in his eyes.

 

"So, she finally had enough, did she?" It wasn't a question. It was apparent to Cid that he would get no sympathy from him despite the good nature of the man. Baku swiped at tears still tugging at the corner of his eyes from his laughing session, his stomach cramping quickly.

 

“So, where'd she go?" Cid was silent, cringing at the question that had been plaguing him for weeks on end.

 

"Well…," Baku announced, his good mood quickly fading, his brows drawing together in concern, "You want my boys to go scouting?"

 

Cid sighed again, feeling completely useless and desperate.

 

"No, I need another favor from you, something much more urgent."

 

Baku paused at this, his stout figure tensed and enquiring, “More impor'ant than finding your wife and settin' you strait?"

 

"Don't misunderstand. Lindblum is in a perilous manner with the Regents’ current state and the Chief Advisor missing," the Prime Minister intervened, "however, our access to Alexandria and the Princess in particular have been cut off and we have information that has led us to believe that Queen Brahne has been trading with a weapons dealer, for what purpose, we do not know. You are partial to the Queens’ behavior since the death of the king, Baku. All here know of the erratic state she has been in as of late and our greatest concern is for Princess Garnet. With no communication, we can only speculate as to her well being."

 

Baku jammed his hands in his pockets, his eyebrows drawing together, "So, you want me to sneak in a letter? Work back and forth as correspondence?"

 

Artania's sharp eyes narrowed and his wise mouth quipped into a bitter grin, "No. We want you to kidnap her."

 

Baku suddenly had a choking fit. Cid was quiet and thoughtful as he watched his old friend, praying silently for the man's cooperation.

 

When the stout man gained back his bearings, he looked to Cid with a concerned expression, "You want me to sneak into Alexandria and kidnap Garnet. Am I getting this right?" Cid felt like sighing again. However, he looked to his long time friend earnestly, trying to convey his need and trust as much as his limited expressions allowed. "I wouldn't ask this lightly. And I wouldn't ask this of just anyone. I fear for my wife however, I also fear for my niece. The kingdom of Alexandria takes precedence over my own dilemma. If this matter can be settled, it would be only then that I could focus better upon the wellbeing of my Chief Advisor."

 

Baku's face softened as much as his hard face allowed him to. "Feelin' really guilty about it, aren't you? She's probably fine, just needs a bit more time to blow off some steam." A heavy silence ensued, doubt weighing heavy in the air. Hilda was not prone to tantrums and above all, she would be the first to understand her place within the Regency and how vital her input was to the working and wellbeing of Lindblum. Her long absence could not bode well.

 

"Well, when should I start begging the good 'ol Queen to not off my head?" Before panic had the chance to take over, a flood of relief overcame Cid as he focused on Baku. There was an audible exhalation of breath from his chief engineer.

 

"As soon as possible. The longer we wait, the less chance we have of recovering the Princess and discovering what's amiss."

 

"That's fine and dandy, but what if I do the deed and come to find out, nothin's wrong, the Queen is just being a bitch hermit?"

 

A loud choking noise came from Artania and the chief engineer struggled to withhold a laugh. Cid frowned at Baku yet didn't feel the need to reprimand him for his forwardness and insult to his best friends’ widow. "I'm willing to take that risk. Be quick and try your best to be sly about it. I know how outlandish your troupe likes to be." He said the last bit with dripping sarcasm.

 

"Nothing wrong with my boys that a good fist can't handle," his lips twisting into a joking nature. He gave a lazy wave and headed out the door.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

 

Cid Fabool could stake claim to many impressive feats, Kuja mused. His previous mind of the man had merely been designated to the assigned role of Regent of Lindblum which had never bode well with the mage given to his personal dealings with the Queen of Alexandria. However, the more he learned about him, the more intrigued he was. Lindblum in itself was ever industrial, a far contrast to the prim-rose aesthetics of Alexandria. For what he thought was lack of taste and grace he realized now was modern function and progression. The more he learned of the Regent, the more he understood how well the city symbolized the man and what he represented.

 

When Kuja had first laid eyes on the Hilda Guarde, there was no doubt about its constructor. The speed was impressive and the shape and bend of the machine was gleaming elegance, boasting of a myriad of colors found within the spectrum of a desperate dusk, the dying rays a testament to its glory.

 

It was only appropriate that he should have it, Kuja mused.

 

Although Cid's ship was no comparison to the advanced technology developed in Terra, the man was well before his time. And he found it remarkable that Cid not only had the stamina to man the city but also work on his advanced ships, being the driving force behind the technology that could launch Gaia into a new era of development. Yet he was also privy to the great amount of aid the Regent received from his extraordinarily clever and sensible Chief Advisor as well as the notoriously intelligent and manipulative Prime Minister.

 

When he had first learned that the Regent had instated his wife as Chief Advisor on his council, he had thought the sentiment wasted, yet now knowing the woman personally, he understood that there were no tender feelings involved in the decision. Hilda Fabool had a mind to be reckoned with accompanied by style and elegance that made her a lady of substance and grace, as well as power. Another credit to the man. He was more than itching to meet Cid Fabool, to asses and determine what kind of man he was, intrigued on speculation and beyond curious.

 

He commanded his puppets to make the preparations for their departure, looking down to see the Regent’s wife climb aboard down below. There wasn’t much time left before all his plans would fall in place. Where would Hilda fit in within his new kingdom?

 

***

 

Leaving her cabin after only a few short hours of travelling, her captor had explained that their destination was merely a short trip away and that they would descend before nightfall. Walking out on the deck she was surprised to see Kuja eating heartily, his body facing her, yet his head turned to the side as he gazed out into the distance, chewing thoughtfully with a fork in one hand and a knife in the other. He had had a table brought out and it was littered with dishes covered in fruit, sweet meats and warm breads. She tilted her head to the side as she studied him, knowing that it was a rare moment that she could view him unaware. He looked almost brooding which wasn’t unusual.

 

Kuja teased, joked, and gossiped, but it was never done in a nice, if polite, manner. Looking at him now, he seemed almost childlike as he looked to the distance, his eyes smoothed of emotion, his mouth working in an optimistic manner as he chewed his food. She instantly felt drawn to him despite herself. She realized that this must be how he had managed to work his way into the inner circle of Treno’s nobility. He was a manipulator that could convey so many different qualities that he could be whatever he needed to be to get what he wanted. She tried to harden herself from her natural pull to him, a frown etching across her brows. Almost as if he sensed the change in her mood, he turned to her, his expression changing from one to awareness, to an open welcome.

 

"Lady Hilda!" He sounded warm and inviting. Yet she noticed the change in his eyes and knew better than to be fooled by any false sense of security that he might have tried to offer. He gestured to the other chair at his table and she walked forward, sitting down delicately. Looking to the food, her stomach turned violently, and she declined the offer of steaming hot rolls as he cordially held them out to her. Returning to his plate he brought a berry to his lips.

 

"If you're starving yourself on purpose then I'll let you know it's an awful way to go," he sat back, one arm crossed over his lap as he brought a strawberry to his lips.

 

"You speak as if you've seen it done."

 

A wolfish grin flashed across his face.

 

She paled slightly.

 

He reached over, plucking another strawberry, dipping it into cream, and bringing it dangerously close to her lips. His smile was teasing. She took it from his hand, refusing to be baited, and began to chew delicately despite the protest from her stomach.

 

"Are you uneasy about what we are about to do?"

 

She nodded, not seeing the point of lying.

 

He nodded his understanding, yet not from sympathy.

 

“Perhaps another story then, To ease your mind.”

 

“You mean to entertain yourself?” she quipped.

 

He smiled, “And that too.”

 

"Is there anything in particular you are wanting?”

 

"Tell me about how you met the Regent."

 

She looked at him from under her lashes, un-amused.

 

"We'll reach Condie Petie at sunset. Until then, tell me how you met Cid."

 

She looked around, gauging that it was well into the afternoon, calculating that sunset would be within only a handful of hours. She leaned back into her chair, thinking back to her younger days when she had first met her husband.

 

"I was fifteen. He was twenty-five," she began, knowing no other place to start. Looking to the mage across from her, she saw him visibly relax; his shoulders leaning back into his chair, his own hands folded into his lap as well, obviously settling in for a long tale. She didn't believe she had ever seen him so comfortable before. His face was construed into a lazy smile, his eyes full of interest as he waited for her to go on.

 

"My mother had died while giving birth," she turned her palm upward and gestured to herself; "I was raised by my father and my mother's sister. My father was a professor and board member at the university. He was my benefactor in my knowledge of history and politics. My aunt was an educator at an elocution school, despite not being an active socialite.

 

I was attending the university with advancement at my father's request. Cid had only been Regent for a short time, yet his love for airship technology was already notorious. He was interested in expanding the engineering wing of the university and had invited the board members of the school to a social in order discuss the matter.

 

Naturally, my father had insisted that my aunt and I go as well. My cousin Lavinia was visiting during that time, so she had come along."

 

Hilda recalled stepping into the ball room of the establishment, her breath catching in her throat. She and her cousin had stopped mid-step, taking in the array of colors, glass, marble, and crystal. The room was washed in dark red and gold, curtains dripping like liquid over marble columns, large glass windows were thrown open to reveal deep balconies that reached out into the dark night sky, chandeliers reaching down with willow-like branches in a vain hope to touch the spectators below. At the gruff grunt of Hilda's father behind them, his sister-in-law's arm intertwined with his own. The two girls had jumped as if startled and moved ahead.

 

"I had spent the night arguing with a fellow student. We were discussing Treno laws… or lack thereof, in which his solutions were purely radical. Frustrated, I excused myself to the powder room. On my way back I had made a wrong turn and had gotten lost. In one of the isolated halls, I saw the Regent for the first time. He was sharing kisses with my cousin Lavinia."

 

Enjoying this turn of events, Kuja leaned forward on his elbows, curiosity clearly written across his face. Her lips twisted at this.

 

"I turned immediately in the opposite direction, lest they spotted me. Thoroughly embarrassed and surprised, I was relieved the find the ballroom once more. I was confused whether I should tell my father or not, but it wasn't long after that we had left. Lavinia had told me everything, every detail later that night before bed, convinced that what had been a few simple kisses would surely turn into a great love affair, never knowing that I had seen her. I thought it all silly and told her rightly so."

 

Lavinia had laughed at her then, pointing at her in her nightdress, "And what do you know of romance? Your idea of love is discussing feudal Burmecian war tactics!"

 

She had kept her own notions of romance to herself, knowing Lavinia would never understand her point of view.

 

"We were invited once more to another social hosted by the Regent. The funding was to be discussed for the new wing of the university, yet Lavinia had taken the invitation to mean Cid was exclusively interested in her."

 

Hilda raised her eyes in thought then, "I don't think he even remembered her name then."

 

Kuja couldn't help but burst out into laughter, the tragedy of the situation nothing but humorous.

 

Hilda smiled too, sharing in the joke.

 

She was sitting at a table then, her feet pinching in her new shoes. She was sipping at her drink while taking a break from dancing, enjoying the sights, sounds, and smells of the room, making mental photos for her to review later that night when she as alone in her room.

 

"I've been wondering what you've been thinking about all night."

 

Startled, she quickly turned her head, surprised etched over her eyes as they met the Regents.

 

"What?"

 

He sat down next to her at the empty table, a large, warm smile slanted across his face, "Every time I look over, you seem to be knee deep in some thought or another. Is something troubling you?"

 

Hilda looked to the dancing crowd, surprised that no one seemed to notice the two alone at the table. Turning back to him, she properly assessed him for the first time. He was regal in a young and aloof manner, charismatic and curious. His smile only widened as he raised one eyebrow, waiting for her to speak.

 

"Nothing is wrong. I was just thinking."

 

This was obvious and he inclined his head toward her, wanting her to go on,

 

"I have a paper due at the university tomorrow. I have been researching to suggest that culture defines language with interest in Burmecian tongue." She almost kicked herself, knowing this was not a proper subject for a social function. Yet Cid did not seem disinterested or confused.

 

"It's strange to find anyone interested in Burmecia."

 

She had always had particular interest in Burmecia, something that had caused several snickers in her direction in the university. Her professors merely dismissed it as youthful fancy.

 

"But intriguing none the less." She blinked at this, causing him to give a small chuckle. "Cid," he simply said, holding out his hand. It was evident who he was and he made no pretense that he thought she was unaware. She was amused that he held his hand out in an offering of a shake, opting to treat her like a fellow man rather than a lady. She in turn clasped her hand in his, giving a firm, hard shake, which cause his eyebrow to rise again and a loud laugh to shake his body.

 

"Hilda Gerrick."

 

His eyes widened at this. She tried to take her hand back but his grip tightened, refusing to let go, "A somewhat fitting name. Why is it that I feel any conversation with you would be nothing short of a battle?"

 

She frowned as this, ripping her hand away with success. This didn't tear the smile off of his face, "I meant in wits," he said slyly.

 

Feeling this was an amicable compliment, she smiled, charmed despite herself.

 

"Not to be cliché, by why are you here sitting alone?"

 

"My feet, sir." She gestured toward the dance floor.

 

"That's too bad. I've only had you in mind all night."

 

Before she could think about what she was doing, she rolled her eyes. He laughed again, clearly amused that his cheesy slide had not worked.

 

He scooted his chair closer to her, leaning over and speaking conspiratorially as if he was letting her in on a very private secret, "How long are your skirts, lady?"

 

Before she had the chance to stand up, he wrapped his hand around her arm, keeping her in place.

 

"Do they cover your feet?"

 

"W-what?"

 

"Do they cover your feet, lady?"

 

She looked down as if she could see underneath the tablecloth, "Yes… they do. But why-"

 

"Would you mind terribly to dance with me if you took off your shoes and placed your feet on mine?"

 

Something inside her was fluttering in her stomach. Such a gesture reminded her of when she used to dance with her father when she was a child.

 

"A bit scandalous, huh?," he looked at her expectantly, his head almost touching hers. She nodded dumbly, overtaken by his charm, and very much wanting to dance with him.

 

"Leave your shoes under the table so afterwards you can return and put them back on with no one knowing."

 

She kicked them off, almost sighing audibly at the relief it gave her to be free of their restraints. Standing up, he grasped her hand and helped her from her chair, moving her toward the floor.

 

They were on the edge of the dance floor when he stopped, jutting his chin out in a gesture for her to step on his boots so no one would see her feet as they danced. Stepping up, she felt like a child once more, her feet small in comparison to his large boots. Even so, she was still a head shorter than him.

 

He chuckled, delighted in how small she was, "You looked taller sitting down!"

 

"I'm only fifteen, sir. I still have time to grow."

 

He eyes widened at the admission, something looking like a blush working up his cheeks, "I had the impression you were a little older."

 

It was her that smiled coyly this time, "I'm often told that."

 

"Then I shall call you the Little Woman," he jested lightly, eliciting a small gasp from her as he took a firm hold on her waist and drew her closer. He began slowly, working his feet in a manner that would steady her balance, although she was sure with his tight grasp she wouldn't fall.

 

When he felt her lean into him whenever he turned, he felt secure that he could pick up the pace.

 

"If you are only fifteen, then how is it possible you're already studying at the university?"

 

She noted that his eyes were a peculiar shade of cinnamon that she had never come across before, "My father is Professor Garrison. He is on the board of directors as well." Understanding flooded his eyes and he raised his eyes to the ceiling in order to remember which instructor she was referring to.

 

"Why were you not here at my last social then," he said, referring to the invitation her father had received in concern about the engineering wing.

 

"I was here." A smile was working across her face. The Regent was very apparent in his flighty attitude toward the opposite sex.

 

His brows knit together, obviously trying to place her and failing miserably.

 

"It's alright, sir, you wouldn't have noticed me. You were indulging yourself intimately with my cousin."

 

He stopped then, embarrassment washing over his features like a tide, his face taking on a tacky shade of red. The music had also stopped in which she stepped down, ready to take her leave.

 

She couldn't help it. She laughed out loud, causing a few heads to turn in their direction.

 

Silently, he escorted her back to her table, keeping a bit of distance between the two. Sitting down, she brought her feet underneath the cloth and began to put her shoes back in place.

 

"I'm not what they say I am." He said it hastily but quietly. He looked at her then with a serious expression on his face, "Not completely." She turned her head to the side, studying him quizzically, not knowing how to analyze what he said.

 

"I'm not judging you," she spoke with a smile, wanting to assure him that she didn't think ill of him, even though she found him to be a bit lecherous.

 

She raised her hand for another shake, amusement tickling the corner of her eyes. He joined in, smiling once more and grasping her hand, giving it a hard shake.

 

"Good luck with your research, Little Woman."

 

Before she could reply, her father came into view, a quizzical look given to Cid, "Hilda, are you ready to go?"

 

Standing, she gave a small nod to the Regent, intertwining her arm with her fathers. Cid nodded in turn and bid goodbye to the professor.

 

"I take it your father wasn't very fond of the Regent's reputation either?" Kuja was resting his head on one of his fisted hands.

 

"That and the fact that Lavinia refused to speak to me afterwards. It put a strain on the household and she was asked to leave."

 

"Naturally," Kuja shrugged elegantly, blinking lazily with the gesture as he spoke.

 

"I had assumed I wouldn't see him ever again. My father's interaction with him was minimal and I was only fifteen."

 

Kuja began tapping his lips with his index finger, "How did he manage to retain contact?"

 

Hilda took a sip of water, her stomach beginning to settle from its earlier illness, "It was two months before I heard from him again. I received a parcel by courier. A gift."

 

She couldn't help but smile at the memory.

 

"And how original was the dear Regent?"

 

His teasing didn't faze her in the slightest, "A Burmecian spearhead."

 

Kuja looked as if he had swallowed something sour. She laughed out loud, caught off guard by his childish antics.

 

"You're really head over heels for those disgusting rats!"

 

She laughed again, shaking her head with it, "It was more in the interest of the unknown. Before Cid, Burmecia was isolated in the ways of trading and commerce. It was once a rare site to see a Burmecian in Alexandria or Lindblum before his reign."

 

"He should never have meddled to begin with," he muttered, "Well, I won't assume he gave you a dreadful spearhead, making you rush into his arms agreeing to marry him."

 

"No, nothing that absurd. I only knew it was from him because it was delivered by royal courier. He had not even sent a note along with the parcel. My aunt had thought it strange and abnormal, thinking the Regent sent it as a joke."

 

"What did your father think?"

 

"He knew otherwise. He was… surprised. It was a thoughtful token, if anything. But it wasn't romantic. I think that's what surprised my father."

 

"Of course it was romantic! What better way to woo a lady that with a thoughtful gift that only she would appreciate?"

 

Hilda snorted at this, "Despite my curiosity, I assure you that I can never be 'wooed' with weaponry. It was an offer of friendship. I was too young and his association with my cousin, no matter how small, would not have easily gone amiss."

 

"You can't say he was only interested in friendship," Kuja prompted coyly, a mischievous smile on lips.

 

"No, it would have been silly to believe he didn't have a further goal." She shrugged, "He sent several requests for me afterwards, but my father discouraged all of them. He was wary of the Regents reputation and believed myself level-headed enough to feel the same."

 

"And yet you were not."

 

"At first I was," she smirked at this.

 

"I didn't see Cid again until my father was invited to another social along with the rest of the board members of the university. It had been almost two months sense the Regents last letter. My aunt had taken ill so my father was inclined to take me in her place."

 

"And did the charming Cid intercept again to steal your little heart?"

 

Hilda snorted unladylike before she could stop herself.

 

"No, not at all. I almost thought he had forgotten about me, to my relief. I was in attendance with the other professors and dean yet Cid never strayed a single look at me. It was all business. Afterwards, I left for home with my father. I remembered how tired he looked and had asked if I should bring him some tea."

 

"Hilda, sit down," he said wearily. She began wondering if he was coming down with something. Maybe Aunt had passed her bout of flu.

 

Complying with her father's wishes, she sat, folding her hands into her lap. Waiting anxiously, he sat downed and sighed heavily, closing his eyes.

 

"Are you alright?"

 

He waved at her, opening his eyes and giving her one of his light smiles, trying to reassure her.

 

"I'm fine. I'm concerned however," he shook his head then, unbuttoning the top half of his stiff collar of his black coat, "You know that man intercepted me in the hallway alone."

 

Her eyes widened in alarm, taking a second to register who he was meaning. He saw understanding flash across her eyes and promptly continued, feeling no need to hesitate.

 

"He demanded to know why I wouldn't send you off to the castle. Tried to assure me that his intentions were innocent. Well, I swiftly told him where I thought he could shove his intentions and that I had no more inclination to paint your face and send you working on the streets much less let alone with him."

 

Hilda had swallowed in embarrassment, knowing her father was not known for hiding his displeasure behind frivolous words.

 

"I've never seen a man so red in the face that wasn't plowed under by the drink. His anger was practically steaming from the ears. I almost laughed."

 

He did laugh then.

 

"Well, he told me that I could take my comments and choke on them. Said he would have the guard here by the morrow to come get you if he had to. And this is what confused me, girl. I asked him why you? Of all the girls in Lindblum, what was so special about my Hilda and what was it that he wanted with you anyways.

 

'I want to sit with her and ask her everything about nothing.'

 

"I didn't think it was possible but that man managed to turn an even brighter shade of red when he said that. Well, what do you think?"

 

She blinked comically, trying to take it all in, not knowing what to make of the odd situation.

 

"Well?"

 

"…Why would he say something like that?"

 

Her father shrugged, "I asked him if he was funny in the head. Then I told him you would come by tomorrow. Tea and biscuits have you. See if you can rub off some of your sensibilities on him, get him to quit tinkering with those silly ships of his and run a city." He stood then, moving to the stairs to retire for the night.

 

"W-wait! Why?" It was the only coherent thing she could get out of her mouth.

 

He smiled, his blue eyes crinkled at the side with it, "I honestly don't know why. We'll… see what happens I guess."

 

She looked to Kuja, noting the frown creased on his forehead from concentration.

 

"I left after I finished classes at the university. I didn't know what to expect. When I arrived, I was told to wait outside a states room, that the Regent was held in council. I waited for two hours. I wasn't pleased."

 

As she was leaving, the doors had opened, the many men in attendance exiting. Before she could take two steps, however, Cid grasped her arm, spotting her immediately through the crowd, his grip firm.

 

"Don't leave," he implored hastily, a certain implication of excitement and desperation in his voice, "I'm sorry."

 

She felt silly all at once, knowing that his tardiness was beyond his control yet she couldn't shake the feeling that she had been slighted. She wasn't even clear on why she was there. Even though he was quickly forgiven without her words, her expression was far from passive.

 

Her frown deepened as she pointedly stared at his grasp on her arm. He quickly released it, putting his hands to his sides.

 

"Trade with Alexandria," he rushed out, pushing the words from his mouth almost at once, "they've raised import taxes and our annual budget is in decline as is." He looked troubled and she had the uncontrollable urge to want to ease his distress.

 

She smiled suddenly, interweaving her arm through his, catching him off guard.

 

"I was told I would be treated to tea?"

 

A small smile was working at the corner of his lips, creating a confusing warmth at the recesses of her stomach, "That is true. But at this point in the day, I think hemlock is in order."

 

She laughed out loud at this, surprised at the sound emitting from her throat. Looking up at him, he was smiling down at her from his impressive height with a mixture of amusement, curiosity, and something that hinted at wonder within his oculars.

 

Hilda was feeling parched once more, gesturing to the pot of tea at Kuja's side of the rounded table. Without comment, he obliged, his sleeves narrowly missing a untouched custard covered in whipped cream. Handing the cup to her, her looked to her expectantly as she sipped delicately, sitting back once more while slipping his hands within his sleeves.

 

"I visited once every three days. My visits usually ended in arguments, in which Cid would have a letter sent the very next day, either in compromise or an apology. We discussed life at court, my studies at the university, the daily council and grievances, a new turbine within an airship, chocolate trifles, anything and everything, really. I never understood Cid's love for airships. He would explain things to me when I prompted him to but I had always assumed that he would be much better suited to being an engineer rather than Regent of Lindblum.

 

After three months of visits to the castle, Cid had invited me into a council meeting. Although I was to be a silent audience, he told me he wanted to know my thoughts and opinion on the matter after the meeting was over. I was excited to say the least. Like my father, I was majoring in History and Politics at the university, so I was thrilled with the chance to be in the same atmosphere with real council men making tactical decisions for the entire city.

 

Anyhow, they were debating over the annual budget, Cid pushing pressure on funding for the engineering wing of the university. He wanted real-time development on actual airships from the students, hoping that in exchange for free supplies, he would receive free labor and write it off as an internship. The other council members, to say the least, were not impressed. Instead of airships, they were interested in fortifying the barricades of the city walls and adding more guards on duty. I found this all exciting and was listening keenly as they all began to shout.

 

I was _not_ pleased, however, by the tart that had waltzed into the room serving cognac to the gentlemen and lewdly gesturing to the Regent in the process."

 

She remembered how Cid had the decency to look embarrassed during her display and shady departure. She also remembered how anger swept over her in one swift motion, crashing down and flooding her vision before she could even fully understand why she should have even cared.

 

She became still, picking up her simple glass of water as the rest of the men sipped their liquor, a quiet break interceding before they would pick up where they left off.

 

"Miss. Garrison, I am to understand that you have been spending a great deal of time these past few months with our Regent."

 

"That is true," she said deadbolt, setting her water down, her eyes sleekly narrowed, thoughts swirling about her head.

 

"Why is it do you think our Cid here is so invested into his ships rather than his city?"

 

Cid slammed his fist against the long rectangular table, "How dare you doubt my priorities?"

 

Hilda smirked, picking up her glass again as a thought came over her, "I am uncertain, my lord. Maybe it's to escape all the doxies he attracts through his daily interactions?"

 

The council member smirked in turn, feeling like he might have an ally in his opinion. She would later learn that his name was Garran and that he was in every way a snake.

 

"I assure you Miss. Gerrick, it isn't something we encourage. Are there any more theories behind the Regents distracting hobbies?"

 

She had a sly answer but before she could speak it, she felt herself being roughly hauled out of her chair and dragged to the door of the states room. She tripped on her skirts, causing her to cry out, yet his grip on her jerked her up from falling, the doors thrown open as she was ejected into the hall.

 

"Just WHAT do you think you're doing?!" She looked up at him then, his face warped into a mask of rage and embarrassment. If he could, he would have spit fire. She glared at him up at, matching emotion for emotion and she internally tried to deny that she was hurt by what had transpired just a few moments ago.

 

"Unhand me!"

 

Instead, he took hold of her other arm as well and viciously shook her, "I don't need your help in ruining me! Those old sods in there have had it out for me sense the very beginning. What's the matter with you, I thought you would have been on _my_ side?! _My_ ally!"

 

She tried to shove away from him, yet her height and strength was diminutive in comparison to his own. Childishly, she kicked his shins. He visibly winced but his hold on her never loosened. Rather than explain her hurt and jealousy, which at the same time she felt misplaced because they were merely just friends, she side skirted the real issue warring with her and supplied another excuse in its place.

 

"You talk of budget decline, refuse to tax, and continue to waste efforts on airships. No one _needs_ more airships, _Regent,_ they need food, better housing, safety, and proper trade value! Anyone with but a brain would tell you that! If you continue on in this manner, you'll be Lindblum's ruin!"

 

She felt like gasping as soon as she had finished, not fully comprehending the scope of what she had just said. It was a matter she had always felt the need to voice, but never felt inclined that it was her place to do so. Yet her logical side reasoned with her that she was one of his people and he should hear what his people had to say. However, she also felt like a coward, allowing this information to slip by at one of her weak moments, when she was feeling jealous over some woman rather than feeling remotely patriotic and concerned about the city in which she resided in.

 

Many emotions flickered over Cid's face within in instant. He settled on one, anger, and released one arm while turning to leave, dragging her along by the other. Her arm was screaming at her in protest, knowing it was surely bruised already.

 

"Where are you taking me?!" she thought of the council members still waiting in the states room.

 

"Quiet!" he commanded, his voice harsh yet coming out as a whisper.

 

When they met a set of stairs, he all but lifted her up in order to cover more distance faster, unceremoniously dropping her and continuing on when they reached the top. He threw open a wooden latched door, swinging her in and letting go, turning to lock the door shut.

 

She had a moment to register that she was surrounded by airship models and templates before she focused back on Cid. He walked to a table, unrolling parchment and signaling for her come closer. Timidly she did, confused and curious all the same as to why he had brought her here.

 

"This is a blueprint I've been working on. I call them aircabs."

 

The schematics meant little to her but she was interested none the less.

 

"Aircab? I've never heard of such a thing."

 

He bitterly smirked at this, "No one has except for my engineers and volunteer students. It's been in development sense I've been Regent. We reckon another year, we can get them up and running."

 

He turned to her then, one hand on his hip, "Do you know what this would mean Hilda?"

 

"But… how are you going to get funding for another year? And to what purpose?"

 

He waved her concern away with his hand, leaning against the drawing table, "All my airship ventures are not funded by the treasury but by my own endeavors. I've been using my own allowances and although my accounts are nearly finished, I believe it will be well worth it in the end. Think of it Hilda. Aircabs will replace carriages throughout the city. I'll be replacing the traveling trade with something not only more efficient but an industry that will provide more jobs. People will be needed to run these things, man the controls, and work on the mechanics what have you. Civilians will not only reach their destination quicker and in comfort, but also have the security of safety from the streets. Time for travel will be eliminated, making more room for efficient industry. Let me explain an example.

 

"When someone has taken ill, they have to travel across the whole of the city and whether this is by carriage of foot depends on the money readily in their pocket. Let's be generous and say they have traveled by carriage. This can take up to anywhere between an hour to two. Upon arrival, they are made to wait to see the doctor in favor of those who have arrived before them. And those arriving afterwards will have to wait even further. However, say if these patients all arrive by aircab. The doctor is overloaded. He may have an apprentice but a daily inflow of patients of such magnitude will be too much. There will be need of more doctors, as we both know most people are discouraged from making the effort to visit simply because of the lack of attention they will receive due to the amount of people waiting for treatment. And with more doctors, more treatment can be encouraged simply because it's more readily available and with more speed. That is just one example of the many. And if everyone is using them, they would cost less than the prices demanded carriage passage. It would be revolutionary!

 

"I've wanted to be Regent as long as I can remember, Hilda. I love this city, I love its people. We have so much potential to become more than what we are but with the council fighting me tooth and nail along the way, it's becoming impossible for us to work on the beginning stages of developing this city into a truly functional state. Those fools are pressing on about wall structures to keep outsiders out while impressing the matter of aesthetics in comparison to Alexandria, complaining that the city looks too droll. Lindblum is not meant to be an isolated flower but an industrially advanced structure comprised of progressive commerce and inventions. I have ideas, girl, ideas that could launch us as a formidable power across this continent."

 

She was stunned and proud.

 

"I had no idea… Cid… Cid, that's brilliant!"

 

He coughed at this, not feeling up to flowering under the attention but appreciating the comment all the same, "You're one of the few people who seem to think so."

 

She was already imagining it, the cogs in her mind turning over.

 

"I know why you were angry. But you cannot allow your emotions to get the better of you in front of those rats. They will use it against you at every opportunity."

 

She sighed, feeling her jealousy overcome her once more yet knowing he was right.

 

"I was a fool. And it was ended long before I ever met you."

 

"Obviously not for her."

 

"She never acted accordingly before. I suspect it was only because _you_ were there." A small smile turned at his lips.

 

"Why should that matter?"

 

"Because I'm head over heals for you, idiot! Anyone with eyes can see it!"

 

She felt her face reddened, trying to not take in the information in the manner in which she was.

 

_He wants me._

 

She had told herself often that she would have been a fool to ever fall for him and despite her efforts, she found herself more entrapped by the day.

 

"Why do you think I brought you here today? Do you think I just bring any girl into my political meetings? Let them sit prim and pretty for me while I yell my head off? I want to know what you think! I always want to know what you're thinking. I want your input, to see your calculating mind work as you weigh and balance all options in your hands. You're the most beautiful woman I have ever met. It boggles me how you can sit upright and elegant eating cakes while all by destroying my men on a chessboard all the while cleverly instructing me on how to properly conduct a raid. Do you understand how frustrating it is to know how young you are, to know that I can't have you, but to also _fear_ what you're thinking, to want to be a better man that I actually am in order to offer you something equivalent of you in order for you to except me? To offer myself and more in my hand and hope you don't laugh in my face."

 

Her heart was beating so fast she couldn't breathe, "What are you saying?" she asked quietly, wanting just a little more.

 

"I want to marry you."

 

Before she could think it, it slipped through her lips, "But I'm still not of age."

 

He knocked over an empty ink bottle in frustration, allowing the glass to roll across the floor, "I know that. Believe me, I know that." He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

 

"Then ask me again when I'm sixteen."

 

He turned quickly, the blood seeping from his face, "What?"

 

"Ask me again when I'm sixteen and I will say yes."

 

His large arms engulfed her and lifted her off the floor, gathering her close to him, his face in her hair.

 

"But don't think that allows you any amount of liberties in the mean time," she teased, her voice slightly muffled as it was pressed against his chest. He pulled her away to look into her eyes, his mouth grinning.

 

"Hilda?"

 

"Hmm?"

 

"Shut up."

 

He kissed her softly and almost innocently, but the feeling he was trying to hold back was almost tangible. It made her calm and excited all at once. She almost went completely limp in his arms, causing him to laugh. She had reached up then, her feet still dangling to give him a hard whap on the head, causing him to laugh even harder.

 

It was one of her most precious memories.

 

Unbidden, she felt the beginnings of tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, yet she blinked them away, placing the images in her mind in a box, trying to not allow emotion to overcome her.

 

Kuja looked to her thoughtfully, his head once again resting on his hand, his teasing manner gone.

 

"It almost sounds like a story book…but it’s not."

 

She said nothing, suddenly feeling bare and exposed. Mages were slowly moving about the deck, silent about their work.

 

The ship began to slow in its speed and she suddenly felt her stomach begin to drop as she recognized that the ship was slowly declining in altitude.

 

"Oh. We're here," Kuja said, blinking out of his thoughts as he turned around in his chair to look ahead of them. The sun was sinking into the horizon and a small town could be seen in the distance. He stood then, working around the table to offer his hand, helping her up in turn.

 

She walked to the front of the ship, peering over to look ahead. Small lights twinkled in the small village, almost in a welcoming gesture. The silvery man stood next to her, his eyes assessing the small town as well.

 

Turning to her, he placed his hands on his hips, his hair slipping over a shoulder, "I've had a dress made with you in mind. You'll find it in your wardrobe. It will be the only dress you will wear," he said silkily, binding her with his subtle spell. She understood, knowing that when she reached into the large cabinet that she would be only drawn to the dress he had procured for her.

 

"You could have merely told me what it looked like. I'm sure I could have found it without much trouble."

 

He smiled, his canines showing, "Yes, but I want you to change into it now. It will be your wedding dress."

 

She tensed in alarm. Remembering the ceremony required at this Condie Petie to gain passage past the towns confines, she attempted to calm her nerves.

 

"Surely this can wait tomorrow, can it not?"

 

He shrugged, the gesture aloof while remaining elegant, his hands placed behind his back, "I'm sure it can. However, I would like to get this over and done with. Time is a bit pressing at the moment."

 

He made a "shooing" gesture, turning away from her.

 

She walked away, her heart lodged in her throat, her palms itching.

 

She could feel a headache coming on.

 

**A/N:** _Ok, I need to change just a few more things to chapter nine and then I should be ready to continue with ten. I’m so sorry!!!_


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** _Forewarning, this chapter contains a **lemon**. I apologize for letting this go for so long, I do not have an excuse. I will be better and for anyone that is reading this, if you receive any enjoyment from this work, then that is happiness for me. Thank you. _

-.-.-.-.-.-

 

“I think you should get an annulment. “

The room was silent, heavy. The only audible sound was her father exhaling smoke, his fingers pinched upon a cigarette. Most of his colleagues preferred a pipe to accompany their tobacco, but Mr. Gerrick always preferred the thin paper to the wood, a habit he developed in his early years. During this crucial hour, he watched his daughter closely, his posture languid and relaxed, a complete contrast to the hyperactive cogs of his mind. Looking to his only child, he studied her through the haze of smoke that had begun to gather around him, his face expressionless. He said nothing of his sister-in-law’s opinion; never even took his eyes away from his daughter when her aunt declared her thoughts. He only waited.

Hilda was sitting in a chair, her spine straight, her posture derived of pins and needles rather than proper etiquette. And her eyes were dry and red; her face blotched and stained with it. Mr. Garrison observed this silently as well, mentally noting that he had not seen his daughter cry sense she was but a child.

_She still is,_ he thought to himself, filing that away as well.

“Have you seen him sense his…discretion?” Despite Aunt’s calm question, her eyes and voice were dead. Everything came out monotone from her mouth.

“…No.”

It came out more softly than she had desired. She was weak and sounding of it. It made her fists clinch involuntarily.

Mr. Gerrick took a long inhale of his cigarette.

“I have taken care of it. The contracts are underway. I will be granted an annulment within hours once Cid and I have signed the agreement. I-“she stopped there, detesting the effort it took her to choke back her tears, “I hope you can accommodate me by letting me return home. “

Aunt’s face softened, her hands clasped below her stomach, “Of course child.”

It had been three days sense her wedding and she had not seen Cid once. He had called on her time and again. He had requested her in the afternoon immediately, when the confusion about his whereabouts was solved and he had his wits about him. She had declined and would continue to do so for every messenger that arrived. The next day however, when her maid answered the door for her, her messenger informed Tessa that Hilda’s presence was no longer a request but a demand.

Hilda had stood up then, prepared to leave with the messenger, when Tessa merely shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“I’m sorry sir, but I have no idea where the Lady is. She frequents the High Gardens, perhaps you should try there. “

Shock had enveloped her senses at this small form of protection this girl had offered her. There was no reason for Tessa’s loyalty to lie with Hilda and yet, she couldn’t help but feel a small ounce of warmth at this alliance. Tessa turned to her then, a sympathetic smile on her face, “Maybe you should go out into the city for a few hours, hmm?”

Again, she was in the kitchens, when Cook intervened when he saw the messenger.

“Not here, I’m ‘fraid. Said somethin’ about visitin’ her old man. “

He had winked at her when the messenger left, handing her a fruit turnover, flour coating his arms as he rolled his dough.

Such instances became common within the next few days, the kindnesses given to her warmed her over and gave her a small bit of security and safety within a household that should feel everything but.

Now her father and aunt were here and noticeably, with their presence, the messenger was no longer about.

“Well, I’ll go see about having your things packed. There’s no need to stay a moment longer once the contracts are ready and signed, “ Aunt left the room then.

Mr. Gerrick stood then, putting out his cigarette as he did. Walking toward Hilda, he pulled out another chair next to the one she was sitting on and with one quick motion, he placed his arms underneath her knees and shoulders, gathering her up and sitting down in his own chair.

She sat there, curled into her father’s lap, initially surprised. When the shock wore off, she began to cry into his chest as he petted her hair, her father diligently quiet as he listened to his child’s heartbreak.

When the clock was creeping toward ten o’clock, the sun long gone and resting for the night, Mr. Gerrick made a large show of inquiring about the contracts.

“The marriage council has been quite busy with their tasks and has asked for patience. Perhaps they shall be ready by tomorrow, “ Cid’s retainer replied at the door.

Mr. Gerrick’s lips formed a thin and dangerous line, clearly acknowledging the Regent’s hand in the ordeal.

“Very well. Tell the Regent my daughter will be staying with me in the meantime. “

The man inclined his head, no compassion written on his face, merely irritation, “ As the Lady is married to the Regent, it will be his decision whether she stay or go, not yours, sir. We would be happy, “and he didn’t sound very happy in the least, “to accommodate you and your sister-in-law if you wish to extend your stay. “

Hilda’s father sucked in his breath, his anger beginning to reach its turning point. She intercepted her usually collected father, stepping in front of him to address the man.

“Then might I speak to the Regent. “

“I’m sorry my Lady, but he is very busy at the moment, it may be some time before he can see you. “

Jaref. That was the man’s name, she remembered. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to deal with the man much longer.

“Make the request none-the-less. I can wait. “

Annoyance clouded his features, yet he did as his was bidden to. She held no political power as she had not yet been formally inducted into the Regency, yet she was still Cid’s wife.

Unlike what Jaref had belied, she had to wait merely minutes until she was called into Cid’s private quarters. She had been in the rooms only once. She had fallen asleep in a chair that night, waiting for him.

He was in his study, standing over his desk, sifting through letters, his face tired and haggard. It didn’t give her the small sense of happiness she would have thought it have only moments before she saw him. She shut the door behind her, causing him to turn. It was smooth action, almost causing him to stumble. She leaned against the door, her hands still on the turner behind her.

They merely looked to one another then, assessing each other from across the room.

She was small in comparison to him and always would be. But the dead-fall look in her eyes more than made up for her diminutive height. It was these aspects about Hilda that would fool many politicians early on in her political career, these very aspects that would make a name for her.

He sighed, heavy with it, and gestured to a chair, “Please, sit Hilda. “

He sounded exactly how he looked and she was confused about what was troubling _him_. She did as he asked, never a protest emitted from herself. She sat at his desk, making him sit in turn across from her. She thought it appropriate this way, the business aspect of it.

“You want to return to your father. “

There was no emotion in his voice when he said this. She nodded in agreement, trying to fissure an argument that was sound.

“Yes. Despite the delay in the contracts, I see no purpose of extending my time here. Furthermore, it would only be appropriate. It does my reputation no good to remain under your custody as it-“

He slammed his fist against the desk, cutting her off, “Is that all you care about? Your damned  reputation?!”

She flinched at his outburst, despite herself. She meant to come here without allowing any amount of emotion to show about her being.

“What else should I consider, Regent?” Although her voice was calm, almost monotone, she wanted to scream.

“You’ve been evading me for days. You haven’t given me the chance to explain-“

It was her turn to cut him off, yet unlike his outburst mere seconds ago, her voice remained soft and cool.

“I apologize for any discomfort I have caused you, Regent. “

His hand fell to his eyes, rubbing at them hard, as if to erase the images before him.

“Don’t call me that, Hilda. And don’t apologize. I…” He trailed off not knowing what to say, the tiredness seeping back into his voice.

“You were about to explain your actions, sir, “she prompted him.

He peered at her through his hand, slowly sliding it away and into his lap. He was silent, unable to find a proper excuse, because as they both understood, there was not one he could summon to his lips that could wash away her pain.

“There is nothing for you to say sir. It is I that am wrong. I was in fault by believing that perhaps I could sway you from _your reputation,_ however, I was foolish in my thoughts and my endeavors. If anything, I do apologize for thinking more of you than you really are. I assure you I will not make that mistake again. “

He flinched, her words hard and frost bitten like a arctic tundra.

“Furthermore, I would like to apologize for misleading you. I cannot be married to a lech, I refuse to be. I understand this marriage is wasted as you and I both were under different assumptions, but I believe this is salvageable since you have brought this to my attention so quickly that a divorce is not needed, merely an annulment. I am sure that within a short amount of time, you can find a dutiful wife that will not desire your heart alone and wouldn’t mind her husband frequenting other ladies beds. “

Tears bled into her eyes at the last part, even though her voice never wavered. But he didn’t miss it, he couldn’t. His face fell, not from her harsh words but by the tears in her eyes, the dreadful waters that she was attempting to abate with her rapid blinking.

“Hilda…” It was apologetic, it was torn, it was guilty, and so many other things as he said it.

And in turn, she said nothing. She said nothing in fear she would say everything. Everything of which she felt.

“Leave with your father, “and at this, her head snapped up to attention, gazing at him in surprise. He was leaned over the desk, his hands open apart, imploring.

“Leave with your father, but do not take your things. Please. Stay with him as long like as you like but do not leave _me_. “

“Why?”

“In the small amount of time I have known you, “and he faltered here, trying hard to put his thoughts into words. Putting away his pride, he continued, “I have become a man I didn’t think was possible. What happened was an accident, a stupid incident on my part, something I would never ask you to forgive me for. But I can be a good man for you; I can be a good husband. I’ve made an awful start but it will be the only time I will disappoint you, Hilda. There’s nothing I can say for myself, nothing that can explain my actions in a manner both you and I could understand. But what I do understand is that I love you and will make every motion from this second forward to ensure that you know it.”

He stopped there, waiting for her response, his eyes flitting back and forth, searching within her own.

She left with her father that night, troubled and torn. It was with time and much consideration that she eventually returned as Cid’s wife.

-.-.-.-.-.-

His eyes cracked open, almost disjointedly in their sluggishness, soft light piercing them as he tried to adjust, the illumination of the fire still crackling and dancing about in its place. He could tell it was still night, the room warm and draped in the afterglow of the heat generated from the fire. He stared at the ceiling, his chest filled with a building sigh. Lost, desperate, regretful-

“You look quite awful.”

His head snapped to the side, his sigh expelling itself into a rush of air instead, trying to gather his wits about him as his lungs and heart began to work in overdrive to keep up with what his eyes were seeing.

“But I imagine you already knew that.” Softly spoken, the last word almost breathy as it dusted itself from her lips.

“Hilda…” The name almost hadn’t come out, so full of wonder he was.

She sat quietly in a chair beside his bed, her small self regal and beautiful; her black lashes brushing against her face as she blinked slowly, her pink and golden dress glowing from the light the fire casted against the fabric. Her hands were folded in her lap, her head shifting to the side in inquiry, one shapely blonde brow arched. Her hair was pinned in a fashionable but sensible style, making him absently wonder why she never wore it down. She knew how he loved it when it was down, golden and soft within his hands, silk heather against his lips.

“Would you like me to change you back?”

Snapping himself out of his wayward thoughts, he brought his attention back to her question, trying to pool his thoughts in a collective order.

“Back?”

“From an oglop, of course. But only if you’re truly regretful for what you’ve done!” She said playfully, standing up in a slight motion, one finger in the air, a delicate hand on her hip. There was a small smile at the corner of her lips, the dancing light of the fire just as mischievous as the grin on her face.

“Absolutely!” He rushed out, his tiny body standing, working against the sea of blankets atop his bed. “Whole-heartedly! “

“Truly?” She queried, still playful as she pretended sternness within her demeanour, “Or are you simply trying to pacify me in order to rush your transformation?”

“Never not, girl! I’ve been going mad wondering where you’ve been! For you to have been gone so long, everything I have tried not to imagine happening to you, I cannot fathom how I could even begin to make amends. And I am sorry. For the rest of my life I will be sorry, I cannot _breathe_ without you, little one!”

“My, that does sound rather nice! A kiss then, to seal the deal, if you will darling. “ She smiled, crooking a finger at him as she leaned down. As elated as his heart was, something didn’t feel right. This Hilda was quite happy and unconcerned about his recent, if not all, betrayals. Perhaps his penance soothed her heart? Unsure, he looked into her eyes in question…

And awoke to an empty room, the fire long gone, only a handful of embers pulsing, the coldness of the room causing him to shiver. And a crushing weight resumed itself on his chest, heavier today than before, as if to remind himself of the futility of such a silly dream.

Hilda was still gone.

Sighing to himself, he decided it was time to ready himself for the day.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-

Artania had been missing for the better part of the morning, Cid’s messenger relaying that the Minister was dealing with a matter most urgent and would be at the Regent’s attention immediately once whatever his task at hand was finished. And when he finally did arrive, his face was grave and devoid of the small amount of colour it normally maintained, another man beside him, younger but stiff looking to the Regent in all his seriousness.

“Forgive me my delay, this is Dr. Theo Liddel. We have retrieved him to look into some bodies that have come under our attention. I will get straight to the point. Fourteen bodies were found between Cleyra and the North Gate over the course of 12 miles, eight of them bearing Lindblum Fleet Guard uniforms.”

Cid felt his heart stop as he stared down at the men from his perch, his throat becoming dry in an instant.

“Eight? Then who are the others?” His voice sounded calm to even his own ears despite the chill running down his spine.

“Also the Fleet Guard. “ This time it was the Dr. who spoke up. Despite his slight build and apparent youth, his eyes were cut coldly and he stood offhandedly lithe in what the Regent wilfully assumed was a professional demeanour. “Those in uniform remain so because they fell to their death. The others however look to have been killed from secondary level spells. My examination leads me to believe that those without uniforms were burned alive or cooked from the inside out, presumably with fire and lightning. “The crispness in his tone left a feeling of dread creeping along the Regent’s neck he had never felt before.

“And the bodies accounted for are only...“

“Fourteen guards only. This matches the log book of the HildaGuard’s departure. Only the Chief Advisor and the ship itself still missing, “Artania cut in, his brows furrowed.

The room grew quiet and panic began to consume the little oglop. He couldn’t breathe. There was no damn air in the room!

‘Oh Hilda...oh little one, where are you? Who has you? What are they _doing_ to you?!’ His thoughts were jittery, skittish things, his chest rising and falling in fast breaths, his mind refusing to assume that his wife in all likelihood was lying cold and still somewhere on the continent where no one would ever find her.

“You said fire and lightning...black magic? Then this is the work of a mage”? He tried to put it from his mind before it overtook him, his best bet to his wife’s return, be it alive or not, was to put the pieces together.

“We are unclear as to whether this is the work of one or many. There isn’t any evidence that points to either. “ Artania replied, his hand going to his chin in fatigue, his fingers running down it in a half hearted gesture. “We are still expending efforts in searching for the ship and the Advisor. The manner in which the airmen were found leads us to believe that the HildaGuarde has been moving north”.

Between Cleyra and the North Gate he had said. But there was nothing there but flat plains that led to miles of ocean...

‘Damn it. Damn it all!’ Cid thought viciously, his tiny hand clenched into a sad fist. Everything was going to hell and he had nothing to work with. Between this and the rumours trickling in from Alexandria, he was starting to come at a loss on where to move the chess pieces. This was more than his misdeeds creeping back to haunt him. There was something bigger at work here. He could do nothing as he waited on Baku and his spies dispatched to Alexandria to return.

He finally received a clue as to the whereabouts of his wife but they were so damning and fruitless that he wanted to scream. Violently. Lost and panicked, he left his perch to stand next to Artania, willing his Minister to put his head together with his own onto what would be their next move.

 

 

-.-.-.-.-.-

 

 

 

A secondary knock at the door, this time impatient, drew her from her open mouthed stare at herself in the mirror.

“I’ll be out shortly, “she called out, willing the little roly-poly man to relay her message accordingly. She was at a loss about what to do, she didn’t think-

The door opening gave her pause, freezing her where she stood, her hands unconsciously reaching toward her thighs.

“We’ve long lost daylight, it is time to go before the entire village is asleep, “her captor warned, her back burning, refusing to turn around to meet his gaze. Of course he knew what the dress looked like, he had procured it for her himself, but it was nothing like she had ever worn nor _seen_ , surely not something meant for any kind of polite society. She couldn’t will the courage to turn around, embarrassed, as she admonished herself for acting like a girl of twelve.

Amusement tinged his voiced as he called behind her, “Lady, surely it isn’t as bad as all that? “ He felt a chuckle in his chest as he walked toward her, recognizing from the stiffness in her shoulders that without a nudge, she wasn’t moving an inch. Grasping one of her slight hands in his own, he walked around her, in front of her, the childlike need to bully her once he saw her disappearing as she looked to him in worry, her blue eyes looking up at him almost demurely, a faint blush on her cheeks as she tried her best to retain her ladylike posture, her pride preventing her from running to the dressing screen.

She saw his face still and her brows un-furrowed, curious, as she had been quite sure she was to be the target of some vigorous teasing. Her little hand still resting in his slightly larger one, the room grew quiet, neither saying anything for some time.

He had conjured the dress out of mere whimsy, recalling a picture he had seen in an aging book within Bran Bal. It had been one of the very first that had ever taken his interest as a child, with an artistic rendering of the Empress Arcaecia of Nakarq within its pages, a queen of a Terran country whose rulers were born of power rather than lineage. He had been entranced by the historian’s recordings of her poverty stricken origins and her subsequent rise to the throne through strategy, raw strength, and impossible beauty. It was a fancy of his alone, a mere childhood memory that had caused him to make such a garment.

And for a moment he had seen an illusion of the ruler within the confines of the tiny yet ever efficient room, the posture and poise of a ruler before him. Shaking his head, he suddenly remembered too that Hilda had not been born to royalty, her carriage, mind, and tongue being traits of a commoner born to rule none the less. He had likened himself then to the empress but he now understood he could also relate to Lady Hilda. He too was born from the dregs of base materials, fated to rise and rule among all he saw before him.

Smiling something not so sinister, he looked down at his captive with a little pride in his creation, willing her to open up to the possibility of wearing such a fantastical gown.

The sleeves were sheer and bell-like, slit open from shoulder to wrist, capping at the wrist, revealing her small hands, black clasps contrasting to the clear yet pearlescent sheen of the material around her arms. A network of black interwoven lace formed a wasp-like structure where she would normally wear her corset, the spaces in-between disclosing her flesh, the material fading in a hue of gold and converging in to solid fabric to cover her chest, her décolletage exposed, her long, thin neck revealed. Beneath the woven wasp, material draped out in yards of white, a black and gold design banded like a snake, its patterns slithering in and around the material in an alien yet regal fashion. To her dismay, the dress slit open at her hips, pooling in front of her abdomen to drape between her thighs, the material in the back much larger and fuller.

“This...this is not apprio-“

She stilled at his finger pressed softly against her lips, the motion pausing her in her slight panic as his eyes studied her from head to toe, pausing momentarily here and there as something about her caught his attention. She could see the appraisal in his eyes although she was quite sure it had more to do with himself rather than how she looked in the dress.

“Lady...you are breathtaking, “ he said cordially, that elegant courtly courtesy he was so accustomed to dripping with in spades masking whatever had been on his mind, his hand that had been holding her own pulling her closer to him. His head cocked to the side, silver strands fluttering against his cheek as his eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curled up in a slight grin as he peered down at her small self, making her feel as if she was being entrenched within his being, a private space made all the more intimate within the small room. “Your hair grows quite quickly. I remember it being a lot shorter when we first...met.” He finished the last part with a little laugh, the meaning behind it something she could never forget. His random observation threw her for a loop though, not quite able to keep up with his strange pace, as she felt his hand shift from her own, his fingers prying at something on her own before she could realize what is was he was doing.

“Your ring, madam.”

“What?” Looking down, she realized then what he had been working at. Her marriage ring sat heavy and almost imbedded upon her finger.

Looking back at him, his grin still in place, his face seeming even closer than it had been before. She could feel his breath upon her lips as he spoke. “Remove it. Lest I hurt you in doing so myself.” Although soft in enunciation, the words were a command none the less. He pulled away from her then, his hair trailing down on both sides as he looked between them, his thumb stroking the rose-gold band in thought. “It seems quite affixed.”

Her opposite hand shook slightly at her side but she stilled in quickly before he could notice, bringing it to her other and removing the band in a smooth and almost nonchalant manner, not wanting him to see how bothered she had been by the action. Peering up at him, he smiled in approval, straightening himself as he pulled her forward, taking the ring from her hand.

“Sir, the ring? So I might put it away?” She reached her hand out, willing him to give her the precious item back.

“Whatever for?” He looked back, the smile he gave her unreadable but chilling none the less. She paused then, her body running cold as she reminded herself that it would be in her captor’s best interest to not let her survive this little adventure. She had almost forgot, had allowed herself to be swept in whatever relationship they had been carrying on in the last several months.

“Never mind, “she quietly replied, willing her composure into action as she walked forward with the silver mage, his smile and narrowed eyes unmasked in his obvious delight at her obedience.

 Lacking a proper place to dock, the steam powered vessel hovered as low as it could go, a whisper of ‘Float’ pulling the pair in a gust above the deck before sending them falling into the night, the breeze breathy and buffering against her hair as she wound her arm around his to better her bearings. Their feet landed softly against the ground as she released him, his gait quickly becoming brisk as his boots crunched the dried grass beneath him. She followed in tow, trying to keep up with his pace, strange and unnameable sounds reaching her ears, the nearby fauna that she could see in the peerless black unrecognizable to her, leading her to understand that the alien noises could very well belong to creatures she had never even read about, waiting in the darkness.

A rapid screech pierced the night and like a child, she suddenly swallowed in fear, quickly grasping for the mage’s hand, her panic taking precedence before her common sense could. She was thankful that he did not make fun of her as he tightened his grip in turn, not bothering to look her way but smoothly pulling her alongside him until he could slip his arm around her lower back. He didn’t have to tell her to be quite, she could easily see from the way his eyes darted around their surroundings and how he didn’t let up on his gait that he was serious in his observations and that he didn’t want any surprises on the way to their destination. After 20 minutes of brisk walking, her breaths were starting to come in little pants. He didn’t ease up for her, knew he wouldn’t, and she was relieved to see tiny twinkling lights over the crest of a barren hill.

“Condie Petie?” she whispered.

“Condie Petie, “he simply replied. His eyes slid down to her before resuming their watch, blue fluorite intense as his body was rigid. Another hour passed before they reached their destination, unscathed. She deduced the walk was made in efforts to keep the ship concealed, her captor wanting to keep sightings to a minimum.

Within the consuming darkness laid a little town perched upon roots, the strange architecture unlike anything she had ever seen, blazing torches abating some of the darkness as Hilda peered at the structure, its archaic design naturally beckoning to her sense of curiosity. If she were ever to return to the Desert Palace, she would look again to the little book within the sorcerer’s library.

At the entrance stood two dwarves, crude spears at the hand.

“Tis mighty late for travelling,” quipped one, his green grip twisting against the pole of his weapon.

“Or treasure huntin!” said the other, crooked teeth gnashing against one another with each word.

They looked positively silly, she thought. She would have laughed out loud if the situation had allowed but like the man at her arm, she remained silent, schooling her features into neutrality, much in the fashion she did in Lindblum. Two small men and a spear for each against a man capable of the rumoured and long thought non-existent black magic. She wondered what the silver man would do, given the small obstacle in their way. She almost balked as he smiled serenely, his other hand slipping over her own that was on his arm, being overly free with his charms.

“Neither, sirs. Simply an elopement.”

Both men took his explanation with ease, shrugging into his reason with no concern, their little weapons turned to the ground. “Father David Heavenguard is whom you be needin’, “said one, turning to the side, gesturing into the moss covered building.

They stepped forward before a spear came down, blocking their path, causing her partner to sharpen his eyes at the little man as his head slowly turned in his direction.

“Password!” the second dwarf cried out almost cheerfully, obviously protocol still in effect despite the “lovers” quest.

All of the man’s courtly manners were missing as Kuja coolly responded “Rally-ho..., “a deadly quality curling at the edge of his words as he watched the little man and his spear baring his path. Not liking what she could see unfolding, Hilda tightened her grip on the man’s arm, quickly responding with her own “Rally-ho, “wanting to cross the threshold before any unpleasantness ensued. She knew what the silver man was capable of and didn’t feel the need to enlighten the little men before them.

With a crooked smile, the man lifted his spear and gestured for them to enter. The inside of the structure was well lit, sconces set alight in every safe corner of the building, people still milling about despite the late hour. She took the initiative to ask for Father David, still clinging to her captor, unsure as to his current mood. “They’re not too much unlike anyone I’ve ever seen, but I had no idea anyone sentient lived beyond the Mist continent.” She couldn’t help but wonder aloud, soaking in all the sights and sounds around her. She could smell steamed pumpkin bombs and fruit being steeped in some strong tea.

“They’re disgusting,” he responded absently, looking to his surroundings much in the same manner as she was, his curiosity matching her own.

“Surely you’re not still upset by the little man and his weapon?” she asked reasonably, pulling him along as she continued to look about the food stalls, a lovely smell wafting about the air, her appreciating senses causing her stomach to shift in hunger.

“They’re imperfect,” he simply stated, quickening himself to keep her pace.

Before she could ask him to expand upon his explanation, she had found what her sense of smell had delighted in and her stomach dropped, the colour pooling her from face at the horror before her, her appetite long gone.

“Steamed oglop, “Kuja observed, his devilish sense of humour fastidiously returning. “Looks to be seasoned well at that. Care to try?” he turned to her, his arms folding into his sleeves as he watched her face in delight, her disgust undisguised as she began swallowing. He laughed out loud, heartily and bodily, extricating his arms from his sleeves to hold his abdomen, his hair falling forward as his body shook. As the last of his mirth died out, a man quipped up behind them, relieving Hilda from her current predicament.

“Pardon me, but I believe you be needin’ me?” He inquired politely, his little hands resting within one another. His robes were an obvious mark of his position, a little smile curling the sides of his lips.

“Father David then, is it?” Hilda turned away from the steaming insect, drawing her attention to the smaller man, a slight bow punctuating her query. Kuja slid an arm around her hip, drawing her in, reinforcing the facade he had put into place, smiling in turn at the man before him. The man stepped to the side, gesturing lightly with his hand away from the stalls and down the hall, his approval at the man’s open affection evident in his eyes.

“This way it be.” With that, he made his way down the corridor, the couple following in turn. They arrived at what looked like a shrine, a little kirkboat standing aloft two wooded structures, a black empty hole beneath it, swallowing any light that dared penetrate its recesses. Four trees stood at the corners of the squared room, torches flickering light about, a canopied atrium standing above the boat. Father David gestured for the pair to enter, turning to climb the stairs to the pedestal. Kuja moved first, his steps agile and balanced as he crossed the wooden pole, his hand gripped firmly on her forearm behind him to keep her steady as she trailed along.

Alighting to the boat, she stepped down and into his grasp, as he helped her into the vessel until her footing was sure, looking at Father David for further instruction. Clearing his throat, the little man spoke softly, the quiet air in which he seemed to carry himself creating a placid and serene ambience in the flickering room, Hilda turning back to Kuja, looking at the slightly younger man as he stared at Father David, the light catching lavender highlights in the silver strands.

“Join ‘ye hands, and look not to me but one another, “he instructed, their hands perfunctorily sliding into each other as they adjusted their stance, blue on blue, lapis unto lazuli, as the two looked to one another. She could feel the wind from the abyss below blowing against her exposed thighs, causing a small shudder to run down her spine.

“Spirits ‘O the Mountain, Spirits ‘O the Woods, “Father David began, his voice echoing in the silent, fire lit room. Perilous thoughts were fighting to overtake her but she had promised herself not to give into them until this was over. She would think about her betrayal after the fact. This thing...this thing that needed to be done would benefit her none by any protest. It wasn’t willingness that had brought her here...

“Watch o’er the man an woman as they begin their journey...”

Looking toward the man before her, she could read nothing from his expression as his eyes bored into her own, his focus she assumed on the deed at hand.

“In sickness an’ in health...”

She saw Cid in a chair; his head in his hands, a broken kingdom alight around him.

Unconsciously, she tried to pull one of her hands back but the silver sorcerer’s grip tightened, his eyes narrowing slightly, henna dark at his lids, his lips still and unmoving as his stare held her in place.

“...have the strength to carry ye through the trials...”

His steel like grasp and azure gaze pierced her, left her breathless.

“An the wisdom to follow the path...”

Why had she thought she couldn’t understand what he was thinking? Why had his eyes, only moments ago, seemed so unfathomable? What had been so mystifying seconds before was so evident now. She could see it. Oh Holy! She could _hear_ it. Without words, she could hear what he was bearing into her with his stare, with his grip.

_Mine._

She had not the power to will herself to move. Silently, he was overpowering her. Without physical strength nor spell, she was bound to him none the less.

“Do ye have a token to mark your bond?”

She could only watch as his grip loosened, his fingers curling lightly against her wrist as his thumb brushed against the veins in it, bringing her fingertips to his lips. She looked on as his tongue silkily darted out across her ring finger, the hot wet sensation only a quick prelude, his eyes locked unto hers, his mouth engulfing the digit, his lips closing at the base with a slight sucking motion before he bore his teeth down, piercing flesh.

Gritting her teeth and swallowing her cry, she watched as crimson tinged the inner most parts of his lips, releasing her finger from the confines of his mouth, red staining his teeth. His tongue flicked out to swipe at his lips, removing the traces of blood on them. The finger that bore the symbol of her attachment to Cid now bore another, more permanent mark.

_A binding that cannot be undone._

She was waiting for his laughter, his mischievous grin, but there was nothing of the sort to be found as he raised his own hand before her, bringing his fingertips against her own lips. She didn’t dare allow herself an opposing thought, the seriousness of the situation evident in the pulsing, dripping pain of her hand. Mimicking his earlier actions, she brought his finger within her mouth, curling her tongue around the appendage before biting down.

Hard.

Imagining herself sinking into flesh, into meat, unto bone, she bit down, wanting to shout with it, wanting to hurt him for putting her in this predicament, for making her disloyal, for making her do harm onto others with her complicity in order to survive. She could taste blood, the bitter sensation pulling her from her thoughts, bringing her back to the present, her teeth quick to extract themselves from his flesh. She watched the tendrils of red flow around his knuckles as he withdrew, staining his fingerless gloves, his fingers twitching and flexing to reaffirm their dexterity before reclaiming her hand within his own.

“May the blessin’s of Heaven be upon this man an’ woman!” Father David called out, arms raised to the ceiling. Bringing his arms down toward the couple below, he decreed they seal their vows with a kiss.

The silver man slid an arm around Hilda’s back, closing the small distance between them, his other hand sliding softly along the back of her neck before clasping her lips with his own. His hair cascaded alongside her cheeks whisper soft as he brushed his lips back and forth against her, urging her to open her mouth. When she refused, the arm around her back slid across her exposed thigh, causing her to call out in surprise, the motion giving the man what he had intended, bringing his arm back around her as he deepened the kiss, his tongue darting inside, finding her own, skilfully stroking her until she could no longer breath, her knees becoming weak.

Her lungs burned as he released her, hands grabbing for his arms to steady herself as he addressed Father David, her chest heaving rapidly as she tried to calm her heart.  

She was still trying to catch her breath before she realized she was being helped along the wooden walkway, out of the kirkboat. Looking to the man holding onto her he answered her unspoken question smoothly, seeming undisturbed by the events that just transpired.

“There is an inn here. We will retire there until morning.”

They continued down the corridor until they arrived at their destination, money exchanging hands, a female dwarf guiding them to their room. A fire was already lit, barring out the cold night air in the small space, the bed of a medium size with layered quilts, a chair, basin with pitcher, and a chest of drawers with a tiny rounded mirror being the only other furniture in the intimate space, making the room that much smaller. She went for the pitcher, pleased there was already water inside, pouring the cool liquid over her pulsing hand. Once the water ran clear, she could see the injury would need to be kept clean to prevent infection, estimating a quick healing time. There would be a definitive scar, something that could only be concealed once she placed her wedding band back on. If she would receive it back, that was.

She looked over to her captor to see him sitting on the bed, one silver boot propped on the ledge of the wooden frame, his elbow resting on the propped knee, his palm under his chin as he watched her contemplatively, his other hand lazily extended out toward her, the blood dried and flaking as he beckoned her near. She searched the drawers and finding a cloth, she soaked it in the basin, wringing it out. Standing before him, the only movement he made was to crane his head slightly to look up at her as she grasped his hand, running the cool wet cloth against it as she cleansed him, looking to see if she had done him any more damage than he had done her. When finished, she returned to the basin, soaking the cloth in the reddening water.

Looking over her shoulder, she noted there was no dressing screen in which to disrobe, not thinking she could muster the courage to ask the man to turn away as she undressed. She understood that they would need to share a room lest to raise any suspicion but this space was tinier then she had imagined. Even to undress, the garment she was wearing had not allowed for a corset nor a chemise, a small panic nesting in her chest. She looked again to the mage as he merely watched her, bored elegance giving away nothing as he observed her, his eyes following uneventfully from the bed.

She turned to face him fully, wanting to impart the severity of her situation to him. “I cannot remain in this dress.”

His head titled slightly as he concurred, his voice matter of fact, “No, you cannot.”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she tried once more to implore him of the meaning of her words, “I need to undress. I-“

“Do you need help?” he interjected, his voice retaining all the calmness she did not feel. She froze, the gravity of his meaning finally sinking in. He stood as he recognized her expression of understanding, taking all of a second to reach her in the tiny room as he took advantage of her panic, his hand reaching for the fabric pooling between her legs, using the material as leverage to pull her closer until her thighs brushed with his own.

“Turn around, Lady,” he whispered, bending slightly to breathe in her ear, releasing the fabric in his hand.

She pulled back, her poise rigid as she looked to him, her voice solid and firm.

“No.”

He closed the space once more, his eyes locking on her own.

“Hilda. Turn around.” It wasn’t a command. But it wasn’t a question either. He lightly grasped her arm and guided her into a slow spin, until she was facing the basin, her hands grasping the sides of the small table, not sure what it was she should do.

“Just tell me when to stop,” he breathed against her ear, causing her to shiver, his lips brushing softly against her ear.

Her response was immediate, “Stop!”

She could feel the slight curve of his lips against her ear as he sighed into it, “Ah, but the trick of it is lady, you have to mean it. “

Moving to retort, she could hear her own breath catch as she felt his fingertips on either side of her from behind brushing against the outside of her exposed thighs. The gesture was feather light, but its seductive spell was quick to enrapture. She trembled at his touch, her eyes momentarily fluttering closed. Sweeping her hair to the side, he brushed his fingertips against her flesh once more, whispering against the base of her neck, another shiver coursing through her system. Reaching her hand up to stop him, her hand froze in midair as she felt his hot tongue against the side of her neck, slowly drawing a wet trail toward her ear, his teeth lightly raking against her skin, his other hand sliding around the inside of her thigh, moulding the flesh beneath his grasp.

This was _madness_! This was beyond insanity, this was-

Her thoughts cut off mid-kiss, his mouth claiming her own hungrily, relentlessly as she craned her neck back, his tongue seeking entrance and invading her demandingly. His tongue thrust in and out suggestively, only breaking away long enough for her to breathe before he seared his mouth with hers once more. His hips rocked against her backside and she shuddered at the tease, torn as to how she should respond. He released her mouth, his index and middle finger delving in, brushing against her tongue as he looked down at her, lust clouding his eyes. She was unsure of the meaning of his gesture but taken in none the less when he began to thrust his fingers in and out of her mouth slowly, her mouth closing on the digits as she stared back, her saliva coating the appendages that plundered her.

His other questing hand dove into the yards of fabric between her thighs, finding the center he was looking for, a slight touch causing her to still at the realization of what was to come. He dove his fingers into her mouth further, his own mouth clasping onto the pulse in her neck, his other hand playing with the folds of flesh that were entirely female between her legs to prevent her from thinking of anything other than him.

He released her mouth in order to hear her stifled cries, the noise satisfying him in his most basic core, his tongue licking his lips as he rocked his hips against her backside once more. He was manipulating her confusion and drinking in her surprised pleasure, one hand quick at her back as he began to remove her dress. Her eyes snapped open at the air she felt against her back, realizing her clothing was falling, grasping at the fabric before her breasts were exposed. Trying to regain some form of composure, she whipped around only to be pinned against the little table by the man’s hips, his eyes slightly clouded as he watched her, his hands reaching for clasps, unbuckling and shrugging out of his own garments as they fell to the floor, baring himself, naked, his eyes willing her to look at him.

He crooked a finger at her décolletage, pulling the loose dress down, exposing herself to him, the material slipping from her fingers, a red stain embellishing her freckled nose.

“Stop,” she said again, her voice trembling with embarrassment, her fists clenched, wanting to hide her nakedness but knowing the futility of covering herself with her small hands.

“Do try to be more convincing,” he drawled, scooping her up in one swift motion to carry her to the bed, dropping her unceremoniously in a heap. Confused, she twisted to right her bearings before she felt herself jerked down half the bed by one of her legs, causing her to cry out. Sweeping hair from her face, the mage was crouched before her, propping her ankle on his shoulder almost nonchalantly, his hand then sweeping the inside of her calf, “What part of it do you want me to stop, hmm?”

He raked his fingernails down the inside of her thigh, “Here?” His tongue flicking against her calf, his eye’s clasped to hers as he spoke against her skin, “Here?” He pulled her up in one quick motion, making her almost dizzy. She was straddling his lap, her hands on his shoulders, feeling his manhood pressing against her center, teasing her as he rocked slightly.

“This is your last chance,” his lips crooked up at one corner in a sly grin, a silver eyebrow encouraging her response. She opened her mouth to speak but before she could utter a syllable, he pulled her hips down, impaling her, causing her to arch at the sudden shock, a sharp shudder racking her spine. Before she could gather her bearings, he withdrew and plunged in again. Again. And again. His fingers bit into her hips as he thrust into her, her hand clasping over her mouth to quiet her cries as she trembled, primal pleasure shooting through her nervous system, electric. Her thighs propelled her to ride him in turn, looking down to see him with gritted teeth, his chest panting heavily as he continued to thrust into her, his narrowed eyes masked with lust, his gaze heavy and just as demanding as his body was.

This was _unfair_. She was overwhelmed. She was being consumed. Eaten alive!

“Let your voice out,” he ground out between pants, his hips like a piston, unrelenting. She knew she would be bruised where his fingers dug into her flesh. He wrenched her palm from over her mouth, his hand sliding down and grasping tightly onto her forearm as he sent them both over the edge. She called out something that sounded like his name, shuddering convulsively above him as she came, hard. He bit out a shout, his back arched as he poured himself into her, overflowing.

She could feel the wetness between her thighs seeping out of her as she fell forward, her head against his shoulder, gasping for air, his shoulders rocking beneath her as he did the same. When their breaths began to steady, she watched drunkenly from her perch on his shoulder as he reached behind him, pulling a pillow from behind, down the bed, gently pushing her onto it. She turned into the cushion, both hands wrapping underneath as her cheek savoured the cool fabric, her heart finally finding its natural rhythm.

 She yelped in surprise when she felt her hips being heaved from the bed, her knees shoved toward her abdomen beneath her, her derriere in the air. She turned to look at her partner as he positioned himself behind her, hard again, pressing once more against her entrance.

“Are you not satisfied?!” she sputtered, her mind warring with confusion and embarrassingly lewd anticipation.

His smile was perverted crudeness as he gazed down at her, licking his lips, “Hardly, madam.”

**A/N:** _Thank you for reading, I hope this chapter didn’t disappoint._


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** _I have a bad habit of starting chapters and then getting ideas for other things I want to add and it turns into a mess, I apologize. So the content that I had written originally for this chapter is being fobbed off to chapter eleven. I’m sorry!_

 

 

It wasn’t fear that he was feeling.

But it was like fear.

Fear came from the threat of being discarded should he become deficient in his ability to remain useful.

He had occupied this present for fourteen years and although he knew not where it stemmed from, there was a will within his being that demanded more time. Always more time. Of all the desires he dared allowed himself to harbor, above anything else, he wished not to cease.

This was different.

He looked down to the city below, his fingers intertwining within themselves without his notice, reciting the plan over and over.

He couldn’t calm down.

He paused in his recitation to analyze what this feeling could be.

Filtering through his youthful knowledge, he reviewed his symptoms, noting that they were not as severe as the emotion “anxiety” he experienced when he first arrived on the planet. After a few quick thoughts, he settled on “nervous”, his slightly accelerated heart rate and the twitching of his tail resembling more closely to that emotion that he had read upon.

But why?

He thought to the past few months, deducing the only variable being his upcoming interaction with the inhabitants alone, never having conversed nor seen with his own eyes sentient creatures that roamed this world.

Ah. That must be it. What a silly feeling.

But despite his logic, his tail quivered none the less.

Swallowing in an attempt to bury said emotion, his resolve to complete the task at hand propelled him forward, making his way down the large hill to the city below.

He had instructed Nova to remain hidden prior, unsure of how the residents below would welcome the creature, much less him.

After descending, he paused at the open archway into the town, his eyes wide in wonder at the ease of it all. There were no holographic “watchers”, no system to alert the people within of his entry. With a little trepidation, he moved forward, past the threshold and into the open bright town of Madain Sari. Despite lacking these things, there was a noise, a beat; light but fluctuating that he heard in his acute hearing that he could not place. Unable to pinpoint where it was coming from, he decided to investigate it later, moving forward.

As it always did ever since he had arrived on this world, his senses were assaulted with smells and sights that were alien to him. Despite the logical warnings that welled up within his natural thought process, he couldn’t help but be drawn to them. There were things within pots and on metal grates, being turned and stirred above open flames, fabrics in colors the likes of which he had never seen, shimmering like the bright star that had hurt him so badly in his first months here, glimmering fragments of stones strung together, others resting in solitaire upon smaller chains with a mate, utensils and tools he had no name for also on display. People were milling about through the items in a relaxed stroll and wondered at what it was he was doing. In observance and through his lessons of old Terran civilization, he came to the conclusion that the displayed objects were goods for sale and that the people about the stalls were purchasing said goods for their required needs.

It was fascinating.

Master Garland had instructed him to observe and report. He could easily deduce that this information would benefit his creator none, but he was taken in none the less.

Several smells caught his attention, not sure what they were and unable to identify them, only gleaning that they were coming from the things being turned within the flames, his stomach suddenly protesting in response. He hadn’t even realized he had come so close to one before a man stood before him, blocking his view of the unknown delicacy, large and smelling of the items being roasted behind him.

“Three gil apiece, or five for two.” His voice almost came out in a boom, seeming unaware of the volume of his cadence, his hands upon his hips.

Kuja was unsure of his meaning, his hands unconsciously slipping behind himself and finding one another. Strangely enough, there was a dull rumbling noise about the man, as if coming from within him, making the hairs on the boy’s arms stand on end.

Something shifted in the man’s expression and he bent down to peer closer at the genome.

“No horn…you’re not from around here…”

The both of them looked to another with a discerning eye before the large man shrugged, gesturing to the fire behind him,” No matter, gil is gil, it spends all the same. Are you hungry or not?”

Hungry?

He had been hungry every day since he had arrived. He had eaten things that had made him wretchedly ill, things which pricked his tongue and cut his gums, and tasted vile. There was no vita capsules administered to him here as he was accustomed to in Bran Bal. In the way of satiating his hunger, he wondered if this man’s creations would be any better than they local fauna he had been choking down the past few months in the way to increase calories and retain stamina, much less reduce the growling that was constant within his stomach.

He could surmise that the “gil” the man was referring to was compensation in the way that “trade” usually worked, however not only was he unaware of what it was, he was most sure he did not have it.

“H-How do I procure _gil_?”

He wasn’t interested enough in the wares behind the man to obtain the required item for it as he was still leery of all the things he had been “eating” the last several months. But he understood that should he require something in this town from these stalls, he would need this coveted item.

He could just take it and deflect repercussions with a spell but Madain Sari was a city of summoners and he did not know the range in which such a power entailed. Although that was his entire purpose of being here, he knew too little of the craft to know if he could defend himself from their magic.

“Where _are_ you from? You have to work to earn it.” The man turned back, his brows coming down from his wide forehead, his hand to his chin, “You seem very odd the more I look at you.”

Not liking the scrutiny, he was finding himself under, he quickly turned away, apprehensively looking to the other people walking about that were turning to look at him here and there. Seeing a dark set of stairs between two walls, he opted for an alley, needing to regroup and plan his next move. He was already attracting attention so soon.

The shadow of the enclosed space helped calm him, walking along the stone path, the air stale and cooler, unsure of what to do and where to go.

“Boy! “a voice called out behind him, startling him,” Boy! I heard you need money!”

Turning quickly, he saw an older man behind him, his hand out in offering, circular metal objects jangling in his outstretched hand. The background noise he had encountered with the seller was also being emitted from this man as well.

He had been noticed more than he had thought. He made to leave again before the man called out once more, a small smile softening his face.

“You can have these if you’d like.”

In curiosity, he allowed him to come closer, peering into the man’s hand despite himself.

“These pieces of metal are _gil_?”

The man laughed out loud, shaking his hand softly, making the coins jangle against one another.

“You really are not from around here.”

Kuja looked at him in suspicion, not sure where this man’s generosity welled from.

“Why are you giving these to me?”

“You talk funny…No matter, these are yours for some service.”

Before he could ask further, the man had two hands on the sides of his face, head peering down at him, surprising him.

“Nice…a little dirty, but very nice, “he murmured to himself.

He was frozen in place, never having been touched so familiarly before. Reeling from the small experience, pondering it’s meaning, he didn’t notice until after the fact when the man’s hand slid from his face and down to his side, his fingers digging into the flesh of his rear end.

“What are-“

A mouth pressed hard against his, a tongue slithering inside with sudden force, the feeling disgusting and vile, bile instantly rising to his throat.

His body was being shoved into the other, something stiff and repulsive pressing against his stomach, these events happening within mere seconds of each other, too fast for him to analyze.

A spell was casting in his hand, anything to get this animal from him. But before he could even think the incantation, the wretch was torn away from him, his head slamming into the wall with a sickening crash, his body going limp as it slid to the floor, his offender out cold, coins rattling everywhere.

“Nice work Eric. Can you handle the rest? I saw him making eyes at Herron’s boy last week.”

“Anything for you, Mariko.”

Jerking his head away from the man that had touched him, he turned to see two more people, one very tall and the other just as slight by comparison. A man and a woman.

“And you, where are your parents?” she called out to him, stepping closer, her hair breath-takingly black and lovely. He watched the strands fall over her shoulder in a large plait in awe, never seeing such a shade beyond a record on a screen.

Shaking himself from the distraction, he looked to the other one, the man, short russet hair pointing in different directions, his summoner horn large and heavy.

Looking between them both, he understood she had meant in the biological sense but he could not reveal that this was not the case. Thinking quickly in how to answer her, he was saved by the man.

“Just look at him. He must be orphaned, he’s covered in filth. Not to mention he’s not one of us.”

Kuja stepped back in unease, this conversation sounding familiar to the one he had with the man selling food above.

“Is that right?” the woman looked at him, her charcoal eyes glancing up and down at him.

Kuja said nothing, merely remained silent as to not give himself away.

Bending down, she began to collect the scattered coins, giving half to the man and pocketing the rest.

“Hey Ned! “she loudly exclaimed in a mock yell, “We’re taking these! You don’t mind, do you?” She asked the unconscious body on the ground. The man snickered, reaching down to collect the limp form, tossing him over his shoulder.

“What are you going to tell your husband about the money, Mariko?” He had a small grin, his green eyes mischievous.

“It won’t do any good to lie to him, he’d find me out in an instant.”

“You’re going to get scolded.”

She sighed in acknowledgement, smoothing out her dress before grasping Kuja’s hand, dragging him alongside her.

The man left in the opposite direction with his load while the one name Mariko began making her way to the stairs with him in tow.

“Release me.”

She paused, looking to him, her eyes blinking several times, “Why? Do you have somewhere else to go?”

He was struck again by her coloring, mesmerized.

“Surely you’re not opposed to a free meal and a bath at no charge?”

“And what would you require as compensation?” he asked wearily, the feel of the man from before still making his skin crawl.

“Are your ears plugged up in dirt like the rest of you? I said it was free.” She rolled her eyes, propelling him forward alongside her once more as she continued on. “Do I _look_ as sketchy as Ned?”

All these events and interactions were transpiring so fast, they were making him dizzy.

He didn’t think she resembled that man at all, he thought she was very beautiful in fact, lovelier than any genome by far. In curiosity and a from being a little dazzled, he allowed her to take him to her home.

Setting him within a chair as she began to fill a large basin with steaming water, his eyes roved over the abode. The structure was wood, and…warm, different colors of various objects set about to entertain his eyes, the very seat he was in was cushioned, a novelty, comfortable and soft.

Even though it was clean, it wasn’t the pristine sterile aesthetic of Bran Bal. There were cluttered bookshelves, more chairs with cushions in different colors, a large rug under a table teeming with more books. A small treasure trove of things he would love to explore left to his own devices but too leery of this unknown to give it a chance.

At the sound of splashing, his attention turned back to the room the woman had left for. Then she appeared, waving at him to come, instructing him to leave his clothes on the stool next to the basin but then exclaimed that they would be better for the fire than anything else as she did not see how she could mend such “rags”.

“I’ll be in to help you with your hair in a while.”

He took all this in quietly, and once she left, he turned to the steaming water within the large basin. Looking to his reflection, he noted the severe matting of his hair and how the dirt from the rocky climate had turned it into a dingy gray. It had been five days since he last had the opportunity to wash himself and detested the necessary experience as much as he did when consuming his “meals”. Every pond or stream he found was frigid and filled with wildlife, a far contrast from the cleansing room he was accustomed to, offset from his master’s lab, filled with rotating arcs of light which disintegrated any contaminants upon himself or his brethren within seconds.

Shucking off his garments, the same one’s he had been wearing since he arrived on Gaia, thinning and torn, he stepped into the basin and sunk down to his chin. The sensation was a new one, almost overwhelming, and he shivered with it, his muscles relaxing one by one. The warmth seeped into his very bones and his eyes grew heavy at the feeling.

_This….this is wonderful…_

“Don’t fall asleep just yet, we’re not done.”

His eyes snapped wide when he realized he wasn’t alone, slipping his arms around his knees.

She walked to the head of the tub, bottles in her hand.

“Sit up and lean your head back so I can wash your hair. You can manage the rest afterwards, yes?”

He nodded, meeting her dark eyes, a small grin on her face. He wondered at how old she was. Surely no more than a few years older than himself. She brought a chair over and he leaned back as instructed, sucking in his breath as a comb began working through his hair, pulling on the nerves in his scalp.

“Heaven’s child, this is beyond awful! But it’ll do naught to wash it before I straighten this mess.”

He gritted his teeth against the tugs and tried to focus on the heat of the water and how pleasant that was in contrast the work placed on his head. It took the woman over half an hour to sort through the mess and when she did, he gratefully closed his eyes at the sensation of her fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp with the liquids from the bottles, pouring the hot water over his head several times.

This touch he didn’t detest. It didn’t evoke the same feelings of disgust the man’s had. He pondered at that, working in his mind the differences and why one was welcomed and the other not.

“Where was that man taken to?” He inquired, wondering at the reason he was taken away to begin with. Had they waited just moments later, the man would have been obliterated.

“Ned? You don’t have to worry about him. Eric’s taken him near the Tree. Plenty of bad business around that area to keep him occupied rather than laying hands on boys like you.”

The Tree…the Iifa tree?

“He is an undesirable person?”

“That is some accent you have there! Outsiders are not common but we do get them every few years or so but I have never met one that sounds like you! As for Ned, surely you didn’t want to continue with what he had in store for you?”

He didn’t need to consider, shaking his head to affirm his agreement.

So absorbed was he in all these new little experiences that he did not notice her chattering had stopped. Her hand plucked the hair from the back of his head and he turned to see what had taken her interest.

“Silver…” He looked to her to discern if her reaction was negative, to see if this trait of his was detrimental to anything that might act as a barrier to him being here but her interest didn’t come across as such. Thinking he might be fine for now, his tail still hidden in the water, he turned back around, admiring how his fingertips had begun to pucker due to their exposure of the water.

Although he couldn’t mimic a horn like the people of this place, nor did he want to, he could at least hide his extra appendage that he noted they did not have.

“All done. I left some clothes whenever you’re ready, don’t take to long. Come into the sitting room and I’ll brush your hair.” She left with no fuss and he watched her go, admiring the tendrils of her hair around her face. The water was turning cold and he was no longer interested in it, leaving him to pull himself from the large tub and to dry off with the cloth she had left for him.

The garments on the stool by the wall were cream with ochre and lavender embroidery around the collar, cuffs, and hem, smock like and large with billowy flowing trousers that he appreciated in their lightness and comfort. Although they did not retain the efficiency of his clothing from home, he decided quickly that he liked them very much.

Barefoot and refreshed, he walked into the sitting room, noting there was a chair next to a fire, the room growing dark with the sinking sun. The woman gestured him over with to sit and he did so. The crackling fire was warm against him skin and he liked this too. And when the woman began to bring her through his hair in what he assumed would be more pulling and tugging, he almost purred, the sensation almost paralyzing. He could feel the mass become lighter from the warmth of the fire and the ease in which she began combing through it.

“Surely not…” he heard her murmur to herself. Suddenly she was crouching in front of him, her fingers stroking his crown.

“By all…they really are feathers.” Her eyes began to rove over him in a way that made him begin to squirm in the chair.

“I guess it’s a good thing you looked the way you did before, otherwise you would have attracted more than just Ned’s eyes. You’ve got to be the prettiest boy I have ever seen.” There was something in her voice that he could not recognize but it didn’t look untoward.

“Pretty? Me?”

No. That was wrong. He was the prototype to the genome schematic, flawed and defective in regards to those that had come after him. Though his kind did not communicate with him in the sense that his master did, even he could see the shift in their eyes as they recognized something abnormal about his person. Whereas they were golden, he was fair, white-washed and muted in comparison to their gilded faultlessness.

“I’ve never seen anyone like you but you’re not the strangest I’ve seen, by far. What is your name, boy?”

Her words kept circling in his head over and over, he couldn’t get them to stop. Pretty? Him? It didn’t equate.

“Kuja.”

She blinked once. Twice. And grinned.

“Now that is an interesting name. It means much to a summoner, you know? Surely you won’t tell me next, you’re truly a deity, hmm?”

He shook his head and she chuckled, standing.

“I’m Mariko Carol. You’ll meet my husband and father in law later. Until then, let’s get you fed.”

Sitting at a table in another room, she placed a bowl and a spoon in front of him, the contents steaming and unknown to him. He watched her bring the spoon to her mouth and did the same, fearful of what was in store for him. His surprise was paramount, the taste of the meal another experience piling onto the plethora he had been acquiring throughout the day, pleasant and savory, his fixation causing him to consume the entire bowl within minutes.

She laughed, handing him a napkin, obviously enjoying his enthusiasm.

He wondered at the difference in what he had eaten as opposed to all the things he had tried on this planet thus far. After asking, she informed him it was a fish stew, her ingredients being items found and purchased locally.

“I…I ate a living creature?” He was perplexed and a little worried. Destruction for the sake of preservation was one thing but consumption?

“Not at the time you ate it,” she looked at him questioningly, “It will do you well, the meat will give you energy you need throughout the day.”

Despite his initial distaste, he ate another helping, turning to the door that was opened by two men just as he was finishing up.

“What have we here? “a bespectacled man smiled, lanky and of medium height with light blonde hair. There was another man coming up behind him, built similarly but with a shocking patch of royal blue hair.

Mariko’s face lit up at the blonde man which made him turn back and forth between the two in interest, deducing that he must be the husband.

“Kuja, this is my husband Klise and my father-in-law Arlo.”

The older man smiled, waving in greeting, “Kuja you say? That’s a name indeed!”

“Indeed, it is,” the younger man beamed, very interested in their guest,” What brings you to Madain Sari?”

Kuja grew silent, unable to respond. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Mariko cut in.

“Ned tried to get his hands on him. Eric and I think he’s an been orphaned. He was covered in filth and half starving.” She plucked his bowl and her own, placing them in the sink before making herself busy by preparing two more servings for the men.

“Ned Sutton?” Klise look to Mariko who suspiciously had her back to him. “What about him, Mariko?”

“What do you mean?” she didn’t look over her shoulder.

Kuja watched on with interest.

“You just said you and Eric, Mariko, what did you do to him?”

With a heavy aggravated sigh, she turned and almost tossed the two bowls onto the table, the stew sloshing about, “What needed to be done, he was attacking this child and we already know he was planning on doing so to others-“

“We have no proof!”

“ _He’s_ the proof!” she gestured to Kuja,” We caught him in the act! He had his hands all over the boy in an alley!”

Klise brought his thumb and forefinger to the crease above his nose, shifting his glasses up, “Where is Ned now?”

She put her hands on her hips and looked to the wall at her right, “By the Tree…”

“Mariko!”

Arlo chuckled.

“He should have been brought to the council and given a hearing! You and Eric had no right-“

“What’s done is done!” she argued, stamping her foot like an irate child.

Kuja’s eyes were wide, taking it all in. Arlo was clearly amused by the entire exchange while Mariko began to weaken under her husband’s ire. Although he was slight and scholarly looking, it was obvious that his strong-willed wife would come to yield.

_Fascinating…_

Klise sighed heavily, berating his wife for taking maters into her own hands, as she often did apparently. He turned to the boy at the table, apologizing for the outburst, inviting him to stay in the spare bedroom as the hour was growing late.

Taking his leave, he looked to the bed laden with blankets and slipped into the softness of the mattress, sighing into the weight of the covers, wondering if all these little delights upon this world would ever cease.

Right before dozing off, unsure if it was alright to let his guard down such but so very tired, he could hear Klise from the sitting room, his voice low but excited.

“Mariko, he is gorgeous!”

“Isn’t he?” she replied, hush-like, “So peculiar but you cannot help but to be drawn to him.”

“If I was still a young one myself- “cut in Arlo but the rest faded as he drifted off.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

He woke with the morning rays peeping through the crack in the curtains at the window, his body heavy but rested, his muscles relaxed. Sitting up, he began petting his hair down, his stomach signaling he was hungry again.

To his delight, another meal was being laid out on the table, Klise waving over to him with a smile to join them, pausing briefly to stare at the feathers in his hair.

“It’s just as she said,” he remarked, his head inching closer, “How…stunning.”

Kuja began to tuck in silently, thinking as to how his interactions with these people would be reported to Master Garland.

“What is that sound?” he asked aloud, the noise amplifying as the people within the structure began to increase.

“Hmm?” Klise looked to him, chewing on a bite of bread, a book opened at his elbow.

“The vibrations,” Kuja clarified, “and the resonance.”

All three adults paused to stare at him, their mouth agape.

“You can hear it?” Klise’s eyes focused on the boy even closer, as if looking for something,” By vibrations, do you mean the pulse?”

Kuja gave a curt nod, not sure how he could be any clearer.

“That’s the pulse of the planet,” Arlo supplied, “the ground onto which Madain Sari is built is the closest to Gaia’s core.”

That made sense, Kuja surmised. The conduit between raw power and wielder would be the strongest here.

“As for the resonance, “he continued, studying him as well.

“That would be our summons that you are hearing, “Klise finished, placing a hand over his chest.

There was silence that followed, three sets of eyes studying him thoughtfully, making him take pause in his meal, a feeling of discomfort crawling within him.

“Kuja, “Klise spoke up again,” Today is a rest day. As such, would you like to accompany me to the Wall?”

The boy blinked once, twice, “The Wall?”

The blonde headed man nodded in confirmation, “It’s a significant structure within our town. I would like to show it to you.”

Kuja looked to Mariko, something fluttering within his stomach at the warm smile on her face, beckoning him with an encouraging nod.

“Yes, I will,” he replied plainly, turning back to his meal lest it be taken away at his uninterest.

Later, he was given new clothes once more, the sleeves having to be rolled up to fit him properly, Mariko fussing over his hair.

“There is a bit of a snack in the satchel if you get hungry.” Satisfied with how he looked, she bent down slightly, ruffling the feathers atop his head,” Have fun.”

Fun?

It was a short walk with Klise, the excitement in the man was uncontained as his fingers grazed the stone wall almost lovingly.

“This is the Wall, one of Madain Sari’s most symbolic monuments. Here is where summoners of each generation record the likeness of their summons.”

Kuja’s eyes roved over the many designs and etched pictures, monstrous and angelic looking beings alike littered the wall, letters he could not read written alongside them. This would be significant to his Master.

“Why are you showing me this?”

Why was information of such importance being supplied so easily to an outsider?

“It is true you have no parents, yes?”

Kuja nodded at this, unable to grasp the relation.

“Perhaps you might like to stay with our family?”

A pause broke between them, thoughts swirling around, unable to grasp onto one decidedly before moving to the next, muddled confusion.

“Why?”

He was unaware how the tilt of his head and the innocent blink of his deep blue eyes charmed the man before him, making him chuckle in awe.

“Signs hold a heavy significance to a summoner. And despite the fact that you are not one of us, you are the first I have ever heard of being able to hear a summons resonance. And your name! Surely there’s meaning in you being here now.”

He thought to this, not wanting to correct the man as to the reason of his presence within his town and decided to stay silent on the matter.

“I will stay,” he supplied, hoping that would suffice. He would stay as long as he could before he needed to move into action.

Klise smiled at that, a beaming thing, his spectacles riding on the bridge of his nose.

“Could you show me your summons?” Kuja enquired, slipping his hands behind his back. He wondered if the man had any large hulking ones like on the Wall or if his were small, demure things like the man himself.

The blond man scratched his head, his smile slightly troubled, “It doesn’t exactly work like that. They’re not ours to command, it is a partnership. They resonate with us and in order for them to continue to bestow their favor upon us, we must not call upon them so frivolously. Their power is devastation; we are fortunate to have such benevolent protectors within ourselves. There are actually very strict rules here concerning our abilities.”

Kuja took all this in, his interest clawing for more.

Devastation, he said.

Klise continued on, excitedly reciting the summoner’s history, their migration from the Mist continent after a failed summon, another at the base of the Tree, the rules and culture ingrained within the people of the town, each living with beings inside themselves but sworn to never unleash them upon one another. How each creature was a collection of their faith born from the planet’s crystal and implanted within those that believed. He spoke for hours and Kuja absorbed every detail, enraptured. After translating various notes for Kuja from the wall, Klise pulled out a small notebook from his vest pocket, scribbling something short and precious onto it.

“In our handwriting, you share the first letter in your name with me. Here, this is how we would spell your name.”

He tore the paper from the book, handing it to the boy. Kuja held it in both hands, staring, unable to speak for a time. To see a part of himself recorded on such a small thing shifted something within him. His fingers traced the letters reverently, willing himself to remember the symbols over and over.

“This is my name?”

“Yes,” Klise smiled down at the boy, his hands in his lap.

“This is me?” Kuja looked to him, a death grip almost on the slip of material.

“Yes, is one form or another.”

He could leave this place, this continent, this world, but a part of him was recorded, imprinted with ink, for others to see if they so found it. The feeling was almost overwhelming.

He felt…valid.

After a time, they headed back to his home, their conversation following them throughout the evening meal and after the boy’s bath, Mariko joyfully combing his hair as he sat on the floor by the fire, Arlo periodically chiming in as the two men spoke animatedly.

Several days passed in such a manner, Klise and his father leaving in the morning to teach their classes respectively, Kuja following Mariko about her errands, assisting with chores and her shopping.

After several times of watching the woman in the marketplace, she encouraged him to try “bargaining” for himself.

His first attempt was an absolute failure but there were no detrimental consequences to be suffered from it. She seemed more amused than anything, patting him gently on his head.

“You don’t know how to lie, do you?”

Lying held no merit. Master Garland saw everything in Bran Bal. There had been no purpose to learn to do so.

“Rather than tell an untruth, I notice you say nothing at all.”

His head whipped in her direction at being snuffed out and she laughed, heavy with it.

“It’s quite alright, I’ll teach you. If you don’t master this, every merchant across the continent will have you in their debt!”

Watching as she had bidden, he focused on the deceptive falsehoods that flowed from her mouth, trickling little things that she only let out to steer a purchase in her favor.

Afterwards, carrying a bag between the two, he couldn’t help but to ask.

“What are the repercussions if you’re to be caught?”

She laughed at that, amused, “Nothing, but some broken pride on their part. He might ask around to see if I was telling the truth about others giving me better deals but once he finds out he was duped, he’ll be so shamed he’ll never let it out in the light of day.”

“And what about Klise?”

There the laughter faded into seriousness and she paused to implore her meaning,” Now that we don’t have to share either. Just let him think himself lucky to have such good meat and that be the end of it.”

“This way, you will not be scolded for tricking the merchant?”

“Oh boy, you really don’t have a way with words, do you? You could be so charming if you wanted to with that face of yours. And as for the merchant, he should be more aware of his competition. Nothing wrong with being an opportunist!”

Kuja took these lessons within himself, weighing the validity of her words.

And later that evening, everyone ate in jovial gaiety, and when asked about his day with Mariko in the markets, he told his first successful lie, commenting on what good luck they had in their purchases with the vendors.

His days continued to pass as such and within a blink of an eye, a month had run its course. He knew a report to his Master was long overdue and making excuses one afternoon, he slipped away from the city to meet Nova in the caverns beyond.

The dragon was elated to see him, having been so long, and he hugged his dear friend, wrapping his arms around his head. They made their way to where his Master has instructed him the Invincible would be waiting, the ship having been resting there for three weeks if he calculated his absence correctly. Once aboard, his fingers flew over the control panel until his creator’s face appeared before him on the screen.

“Kuja…I was beginning to believe you had prematurely expired.”

“I have been communicating with the summoners. I lost track of the time, Master Garland.”

“And what is it that you have learned?”

He knew many of the lessons he had learned would be inconsequential to his creator, so opted only to part with pertinent information.

“They know not the Iifa Tree’s origins. Their eidolons vary in size and strength. They’re generated from their beliefs fed into the planet’s crystal.”

“And have you seen them?”

“No.”

Garland nodded once, decided, always quick to the point.

“Then proceed with the plan. Use the Invincible and eradicate this variable.”

“Yes, Master Garland.”

The image disappeared and he began put in the city coordinates into the navigation system as he had been commanded. And then he paused.

Mariko…Klise…and even Arlo swirled into focus within his thoughts.

He thought to himself for several minutes, his mind putting together things of which he was unaccustomed to.

He tried to use logic to dispel any emotion he was feeling but his fist kept clenching and unclenching in something unnamable.

If Master Garland were to ever find out what he was considering…

More minutes passed until emotion won out and full of resolve, he set out to practice one of Mariko’s lessons.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

 

“Where have you been?! I was so frightened something had happened to you!” Her arms held him tightly and although it wasn’t the most comfortable feeling, he would allow it.

“I got lost.” He spoke plainly, working his best to control his features.

Klise patted him on the shoulder,” It’s quite alright. Are you hungry?”

One of Mariko’s meals would be divine but there was no time.

“I need you to do something for me. All three of you. It is very important that you follow my instructions exactly.”

Mariko and Arlo smiled at his serious tone but Klise did not, taking his weighted words seriously, if to be respectful of his earnest feelings if nothing else.

“What is it child?”

“Could you meet me at the base of the Tree at sunset? It’s imperative.”

“And what’s so important at the Tree, boy?” Arlo asked, his smile gone too.

“I-I’ll show you. You said it was a sign that I was here. I need you to follow through on your belief in that.”

The three adults looked at him oddly, making it hard for him to understand what they were thinking of his request. They looked to one another before coming to a silent agreement, Mariko nodding in consent.

“Don’t keep us waiting.” She smiled, something almost boyish in her playful charm,” And it better be good!”

He looked to the other two who also smiled in turn, nodding in relief before he turned away, waving in parting.

He never saw them again.

Leaving quickly to meet with Nova, they raced on the wind back to the Invincible. Quickly relaying his instructions to the navigation system, he followed his creator’s command, the ship rising above the clouds and propelling forward to their destination. Within hours he watched aboard as the ship laid waste to Madain Sari below, his interest caught as he watched eidolon after eidolon summoned in futility as each creature was beckoned forth one after another only to be disintegrated by the scorching rays of the destructive lasers being fired from the incendiary cannons attached to the ship. Great large beings decimated over sixty percent of the ships external weaponry and one in particular had tore through a turbine, compromising the vessel’s flight stability momentarily, Kuja’s equilibrium thrown off but for a moment when the ship almost went into descent before a back-up turbine launched into full throttle.

In less than an hour the city was engulfed in scorching hell-fire and no more divine creatures appeared to defend their home. They had been fierce, breathtakingly beautiful things and he wondered as to what it would mean to wield such strength of his own. If he were stronger…could he live a life of his choosing as the people he had met below? If he found the strength he needed to be the master of his own destiny…

“Kuja. Report.”

He whipped around, trying desperately to conceal his emotions on his face, his thoughts of betrayal filling him with fear lest his Master suspect what has just transpired within his mind. Turning to the now lit monitor, he responded in turn.

“All inhabitants have ceased, Master Garland.”

“Of this you are sure?”

He would never know of what became of Mariko, Klise, and Al. He never saw them again. He could only hope that they had followed his request to meet at the Tree as he had bidden, waiting for a strange boy that would never come, before witnessing the devastation he wrought upon their city and their people in the distance.

Master Garland’s orders were absolute. And he lacked the strength to defy him.

He had never lied to his creator, not once. Now would be the first of many. And he would excel in the years to come with diligent practice.

“Yes, Master, all summoners and their eidolons have been eradicated.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Kuja looked to the ruins of the Eidolon Wall, fingers tracing the context of its remains, dissatisfied. It was looking as if Alexander would be his only option, as their seemed to be nothing left to glean from the ruins of the city. Turning to leave, he caught the tell tale sight of a moogle’s wings just as it was flitting behind a fallen wall. That seemed to be all there was left in this city.

He surmised that the Carol’s had not followed through his request as there were no immediate traces of inhabitants as he could see. Deciding the trip a failure, he made his way through the broken archway that once greeted him to the city as a boy, and back to Condie Petie to check on his companion.

 

**A/N:** _Thank you for reading this far and I welcome any advice or critique!_


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